Breaking Fate
by Trinity Marquise
Summary: “Oh, come off it,” Hermione snapped, irritated at him for being such a prat. And irritated at herself for getting irritated with him so quickly. And irritated because her hot chocolate was getting cold. Just irritated in general.
1. Dress Robes and Dripping Sarcasm

Hermione Granger was _not_ a happy girl.

First, her parents dropped her off a week earlier than necessary at Diagon Alley while they went on a cruise to the Bahamas. Eating ice cream and browsing in the stores became tiring after more than two days' worth of them. Second, the bookstore was out of her 7th year Arithmancy book, and they said they wouldn't get it in until the day before she left for Hogwarts. A good book would be wonderful right about now. Third, she hadn't even –started- on her four parchments long.Potions essay due the first day back.

In fact, the only thing to think of that didn't make her groan or want to murder someone was the glittering badge nestled inside the folds of her black bag. Yes, Hermione Granger had accomplished what she'd dreamed of ever since coming to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry- she nabbed the position of Head Girl. She almost reverently fingered the simple pin, just itching to pin it onto her robes and see how it looked. Hermione had refrained thus far by telling herself she didn't want to lose it or dirty it, but the temptation was finally too great to resist.

She gathered all her books, papers, and quills into her bag and hurried to a beauty shop where there were sure to be mirrors. A few minutes later she was in front of Gladrags. On display was a large silver-framed mirror that would show just how nicely her badge looked on her robe. But what was to the left of the mirror was what really caught Hermione's attention. Standing next to the mirror was the most gorgeous dress robe Hermione had ever seen. The robe was a rich shade of green, so deep it almost turned to black. All thoughts of Arithmancy and Porions flew from the reserved, bookish 7th year student Head Girl's head and were replaced with only one thought: Must try on that dress robe.

Into the shop she went, flustered to make such a frivolous request. _It's not like you have the money_, the practical side of her told her as she fingered the plush material. _But you haven't had a new dress in ages_! the wistful side of her sighed, while the impulsive part of her said, _just go ahead and do it_. And so she did. The practical side of her clucked disapprovingly, but Hermione ignored it with practiced ease. She took the robe off a rack and scurried back to the dressing room, lest anyone should see the sensible Hermione Granger trying on –clothes-.

Oh, but it was so easy to lose herself in trying on that robe. The dress was longer than normal, but a quick flick of the wand fixed that. Hermione stepped outside the small dressing room to look at herself in the large mirror hanging up.

"You look gorgeous, darling," it said.

Hermione stared at herself. The girl staring back looked exactly like her… only not. Though Hermione hadn't become a knockout beauty by any means, she _had_ changed. The bushy waves of hair that plagued her for so many years had finally decided to lie a little flatter, and occasionally she could even coax it into curls. She had never had a problem with acne, even without spells, and the solemn face in the mirror reflected responsibility and wisdom.

"Lighten up!" Hermione told herself. "Accio!" she whispered, bringing her badge out of her bag. She pinned it onto the dress robe and couldn't stop a smile. It looked right at home.

"Just had to show off, didn't you, Granger?" a snide voice remarked from behind her.

Hermione didn't even have to turn around to realize who that was. She didn't even have to look in the mirror, which murmured one more, "you look look lovely, dear" and was silent.

It was Draco Malfoy.

_Draco Malfoy_, was all Hermione could think. _Of all people, it had to be Draco Malfoy._

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she said after a few minute's pause. "Surely you know that the train doesn't leave for another week."

Draco raised a brow at her, regarding her as if she was a mere cricket. "Yes, I know that." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You brainless Muggles have a talent for pointing out the obvious."

"Oh, excuse me," Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, her sarcasm dripping onto the floor with his and forming a small pond, "I forgot that bouncing ferrets know everything."

If she wanted to elicit some show of emotion with that last comment, she was disappointed. All he did was smile a smile that didn't quite reach his icy eyes. "I know more than you'd like me to, Granger." He stepped back and let his gaze travel her body clothed in the dark green robe. Everywhere his eyes touched left her shivering. Without warning, the formerly spacious and well-lit dressing room seemed to shrink and lose all lighting save for a spotlight on the two enemies. _Funny_, Hermione thought absently while he continued giving her the long, somewhat creepy once-over, _this feels exactly like those soaps Mum watches._

And then he was gone. Bewildered, Hermione looked around the again large room and wondered if he had really been there to begin with. Or was it just a dream? She sighed, kicking her bag and slumping back over to the mirror.

"Those Malfoys," the mirror grumbled. "They think they're so much better than everyone else. Why, that Narissa lady comes in here and she acts like she owns the place! I've never seen such a…"

So much for it being a dream.

Suddenly, all the fun was gone. She silently packed up her stuff and changed back into her normal clothes. Hermione returned her pin to her bag, the robe to the rack, and left the store.

Curse Malfoy. He had to ruin everything.


	2. Bookstores, Digestive Tracts, and Philos...

The bookstore was simply amazing, Hermione thought for the umpteenth time.  Not only could it amuse her for hours, but also the aisle of books hid her from any possible contact with a certain bouncing ferret.  Even if her Arithmancy book hadn't hit the shelves yet, plenty of books still waited to amuse her.  Everything from cooking to gardening to bowling (with a magical twist to it, of course) waited to be opened by the wandering last year Hogwart's student.

                "It really is my last year," she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling at the tome about animals before her.  The thought of leaving her friends and the familiar halls of her school dampened her wild spirits, which rode high on the thoughts of independence and maturity.  She could feel herself tearing up already (_No, you will _not_ cry, stupid hormonal girl_) and forced herself to begin reading about the digestive system of a badger to stop the stupid drippy emotions.

                Badger.  Weasel.  Ferret.

                Ferret?

                "Glad to know you're so interested in the journey my food takes," a dry voice came from over her shoulder.

                What was the dim boy's partiality to appearing from behind her? 

                Hermione whirled around and found herself face-to-chest with her mortal enemy.  "I was reading up on which poisons would be most effective," she retorted, resorting once again to third year insults and sarcasm.

                "Like I said," he leaned closer, "glad to know you're so interested."

                Time froze as Hermione considered exactly what he was saying.  That could decidedly be taken out of context and put into another, slightly more naughty, one.  She chose to ignore that, along the fact that the glint in his eyes convinced her he –knew- about the absolute wrongness of his statement, and whirled away to stomp over to the medicinal section of the bookshop.

                "So, Granger, what do you say?"

                "To poisoning you?  Give me two minutes and I promise you I won't fail."  Hermione brandished a thin, powder blue book entitled, "Ways To Kill Your Worst Enemy".

                Draco smiled ("My, what nice teeth you've got," thought Hermione) and she backed up one tiny step.  Draco took this as a sign of encouragement.  Stepping forward, he reached out and plucked the pamphlet out of her nervous fingers and return it to its home on the shelf.  "You don't want to kill me."        

                "Don't be so sure of that!"      

                "I intrigue you too much, Granger.  You won't kill me until you've understood me or died trying."

                  Hermione didn't even try to digest these words for fear of another innuendo.  Instead, she pushed past him and stormed outside into Diagon Alley, homicide followed by suicide on her intelligent brain.

                Since when did one Draco "I know everything" Malfoy become waxing philosophical?


	3. Butterbear: Pure Inspiration

Draco didn't know why he enjoyed stalking the paranoid Granger.  Really.  Perhaps it had something to do with the fact he now knew she was Head Girl.  Perhaps she had put a spell on him that made him follow her like a lovesick puppy.

Scratch that.  Malfoys were never lovesick puppies.

Or, the last and most likely reason, he was simply bored out of his skull.

_Stupid parents_, he thought viciously, his mind conjuring up the image of his mother and father tanning on a beach in the Caribbean.  _And so generous to ditch me here without a second glance.  _Of course, he had been coming alone to the Hogwart's Express by the time he was a third year.  So it wasn't that he disliked being alone…

…He just disliked bored.

And bored the boy certainly was.  He had been wandering through Diagon Alley for the past week, dreading the week that still remained before he had to be at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters for his second-to-last trip on the Hogwart's Express.  He couldn't look at another Potions textbook and the mere thought of ice cream made him queasy.  So, with nothing else to do, he had set out into the lonely Diagon Alley streets, searching for adventure.

Instead, he found Hermione Granger in a clothing shop.

Yes, she was a Mudblood.  Yes, she was probably the snobbiest and most know-it-all seventh year yet.   Yes, she had slapped him years ago.

But, he reasoned (somewhat pathetically) he was _bored_.

So he followed the unsuspecting girl deeper into the store.  He peered over racks of glowing hats to watch her uncertainly touch the dark material, the tops of her fingers sinking into the plush fabric.  He recognized her determined face set in as she snatched it off the rack and marched into the changing room.

And of course, he followed her there.

She didn't even notice him leaning against the wall.  She was too busy peering anxiously at herself in the gold-framed mirror.  That wasn't… insecurity, was it?  Impossible.  Miss "I can do anything you can" Granger never doubted herself.

Draco took this prolonged minute to examine his mortal enemy.  He still remembered his first sighting of her: Wild, brown frizzy hair spouting off in every direction, big front teeth sticking out of a mouth that never shut, an almost painfully thin frame, and big, brown eyes taking in everything from a small face.  Those eyes were the only things that hadn't changed, he noted, studying Granger.  Though she hadn't really grown, she had filled out and that Muggle problem of not eating no longer came to mind when he looked at her.  Her teeth she had fixed somewhere between fourth and fifth year, and the hair had calmed down.  All in all, Granger had become almost respectable looking.

"Lighten up!" she commanded herself, pulling Draco out of his musings on anorexia, teeth, and big, brown eyes.  "Accio!" she whispered, her badge floating out of her bag and settling itself into the folds of the robe.

Draco felt sick.  Granger was Head Girl?  Anger and disgust washed over him, coming out in the form of words.

"Just had to show off, didn't you, Granger?"

And then, of course, they had a sparkling and witty exchange, leaving the poor janitors a mess to clean up.  His icy eyes had frozen her in place as his stroked his gaze down her body, enjoying the blush that crept over her cheeks.  _You ain't seen nothing yet,_ he communicated telepathically to her, before closing his eyes and Disapparating away.

And that pretty much brought Draco to the present, where he relaxed in the sun at a small café after his brief meeting with Granger in the bookstore.   He pondered on his next move to tracking his prey down.  Sipping a butterbeer, he rolled the sweet, warm liquid around on his tongue before letting it slide down his throat, a comfortable and cozy feeling spreading over his body.  "Find her at dinner," he said out loud, suddenly struck by his next move.  With a grin, he downed the rest of his drink and stood up.

_Better watch out, Granger, I'm coming for you._

AN:  my goodness, I didn't expect a response for this fic.  It was only to alleviate my own boredom… but hopefully it's amusing some of you out there.  Um, another chapter should be out in a few days… thank you for the reviews!

To my recent reviewers:

Erica: *laughs* I don't know where I'm going with this either.  Hopefully I'll find out before everyone else!

Kate:  Good timing!  The reason I took an eight month hiatus is because… *looks around guiltily* I actually forgot this fic existed. Bad me.

Wingwind:  is this chapter long enough for you? 


	4. In Which Draco Desires Food and Hermione...

Dinner, though Draco, as he strolled through the dark streets of Diagon Alley, sounded very tempting right about now.  He hadn't eaten anything since his butterbeer a few hours earlier, and his stomach had moved past the, "don't you think we should eat something?" stage and into the louder and slightly more demanding, "I want food NOW" stage.  But dinner required a certain know-it-all Gryffindor, and he still hadn't found her.  "If I was Granger, where would I stay?" he mused, pausing in front of an old hotel.  "No," he decided, and moved on.  "Somewhere not too shabby… possibly even quality, if she could afford that much."  He squinted at the sign hanging a few feet above his head.  "The Cat's Paw," he read, frowning, trying to remember why that seemed to click with his mental picture of Granger.  Realization hit like the pile of books he still needed to buy.  "I bet she brought that furball with her, too," Draco grumbled, stepping inside the inn.

But even Draco was impressed as he gazed around the room.  It wasn't exactly a parlor, but it was more than a lobby.  On one side of the spacious room stood a desk and three numbered staircases leading to dark hallways.  The other side looked more like a lounge.  Large, red velvet chairs cozied up to corners, perfect for curling up in on a cold day and reading a good book.  Small wooden tables were scattered on the shiny brown floor, steaming white china teapots enchanted just to sit all day and puff away until someone desired a cup of tea at each one.  Shelves held books and teacups and games, ready to serve and amuse anyone.  _Not bad, Granger,_ Draco admitted.  _I might have to get a room here one day._

"Can I help you?" An older lady materialized at the desk.

_Time to pour on the charm._

"I'm looking for a friend," he said smoothly, stepping up to the desk and glancing around.  "A Hermione Granger.  Is she here?"

The lady looked at him disapprovingly.  "We aren't permitted to say, sir."

_Uh oh.  We need backup._

"I haven't seen her all summer," he began his tale, "and we were supposed to meet for dinner," (here, his stomach gave an emphatic groan) "but she didn't show up when she said she would, and I started getting worried, and I've been looking for the past two hours for where she said she'd be, and… and… I've just missed her so much these past three months." He finished with a miserable sigh, a piece of his hair flopping into his pleading eyes.

His act worked like one of Professor Flickwit's charms.  "Oh, hun," the woman gushed, "I sure am glad she's got some company other than that cat of hers.  She's got another week here before she leaves and she _needs_ a good friend to keep her from withering away with those books."

_Definitely the Hermione Granger I know._

"Room three-seventeen," the lady finished, now beaming at him.  "But don't stay too long, hun, we're closing in a minute."

He was so elated with his success he didn't even bother to correct the "hun" bit.  "Thank you so much," Draco said politely, heading towards the stairs.

The stairs, however, didn't seem to like him as much as their owner did.  Every time he tried to step onto the staircase numbered with an elegant gold and burgundy "3", the signs disappeared and reappeared on different staircases.  "Moving stairs," he muttered, crossing his arms.  "Just my luck.  Help?"  He looked around.  The woman had already disappeared, so she wasn't any good.  "Great."  His stomach growled in agreement.

"Hold on, we'll get some food in a minute," Draco told it, pulling out his wand and sending a quick freezing charm onto all three signs.  The signs turned blue with icicles hanging off the edges, and Draco could almost hear them chattering (if signs could chatter, that is) as he smirked and lightly stepped onto the desired set of stairs.  "Don't mess with a Malfoy," he told them as he passed, unfreezing them once he was moving.

"Three-twelve, three-thirteen, three-fourteen…" One turn to the right revealed the fabled three-seventeen the first door on his right.  He froze, listening for any movement inside.  She has to be in there, Draco frowned.  His had rested on the shiny doorknob, slowly inching it to the right.  A soft click, and the door swung open.

                If there were any lamps in the room, Granger hadn't learned how to work them, Draco decided, as he tripped over something and almost fell to the floor.  A little sigh reached his ears and he perked up.  "Granger," he growled, "guess who."

                But no one answered his intimidating greeting.  Draco frowned again, deeper this time, and pulled out his wand.

                "Lumos," he muttered, and a soft yellow light burst from the tip of his wand.

                There, leaning on table, dead to the world, was Hermione Granger.

                "Granger?" Draco cocked his head, moving forward, making sure his feet didn't come into contact with anything other than the floor.  "Wake up, Granger."

                But Hermione ignored him, and continued sleeping on her table, covered in books, papers, and a bowl of half-eaten soup.  

"Granger," he said, a little less gently.  

She let out a little snore, as if to defy him even more.

                "Oh, great," Draco rolled his eyes.  "Now where am I supposed to get dinner?"  The half-empty bowl of soup caught his eye, but he shuddered at eating a Mudblood's leftovers.  With a sigh, he exited the room and made his way down the hallways, a long and painful fight with the stairs ensuing, leaving Draco with a bruised knee.  "Last time I deal with enchanted stairs!" he swore, finally making it to the parlor—

                --Just in time to see the front door locking.

                "No!" he yelled, running over, but the elderly lady had already Disapparated away.  "No, I am not going to be stuck here all night!"

                One of the chairs squished its stuffing around invitingly.

                "No!" Draco yelled at it.  "I am not going to sleep in a chair!  I am not going to wait until morning to get out of here!  I am HUNGRY!"

                His stomach acknowledged his shouting with a satisfied gurgle.

                "Bloody everything," Draco mumbled, starting back to the staircases, thoroughly in a bad mood.  He gave the stairs such a frightening glare they didn't even try to change on him.  Now stomping down the hallway, he paused at Granger's room.  She could get him out, couldn't she?  She wasn't the Head Girl for nothing.  Surely she knew some spell or something that would get him free so he could get some food.

                "Granger," he said a little louder, reentering the room.  "Wake up, I need to know a spell."

                The only response he got a low yowl from her cat, which perched atop the dresser, staring at him with yellow eyes.     

                "Bugger off," he told the feline, moving closer to the Girl That Did Not Move.  "Gra-"

                The Girl Who Stayed Asleep gave a little sigh, turning her face so Draco was permitted more than just a view of hair.  She looked very, very asleep.

                "Bloody hell," was all Draco could said.

                With a growl, he opened his mouth to say, "Wake up, Granger!  Sun's rising!" but when she mumbled something that sounded like, "Don't forget the cookies," he was too busy cackling to remember any form of a wake-up call.

                "It's bad for your health to-" he started, but Hermione shifted so her head fell off the cushion of her arm and hit the table with a loud thunk.

                "That's bad for your health, too," he told the sleeping girl.  "You're going to have a bump in the morning."

                But no matter what injuries she may have sustained with her face plant on the table or Draco's numerous warnings for her health, the blasted Head Girl stayed asleep.

                "Fine," he threw his hands in the air, giving up on any hopes of dinner.  "Fine."  He tromped over to her bed, throwing himself down onto the soft sheets.  The flea-trap of a cat gave a long hiss at this.  "Hey!" Draco burrowed deeper into blankets and pillows, "it's not like she needs it.  She's perfectly comfortable on the table."

                The Beast stood up and continued to stare at Draco, flexing his claws.

                "Alright!" Draco gave in, standing up and inching his way over to Hermione, desperately hoping she'd wake up right about now.

                Unfortunately, no such luck.

                And since Draco didn't have the heart to do the dirty deed himself, he gingerly scooped her up and deposited her prone figure onto the bed.  She murmured, "They don't look burned to me," and snuggled down into the soft, inviting bed.

                "Oh, blast it all," Draco grumbled, kicking his shoes off and throwing his shirt at the cat on the dresser.  The furry object didn't even meow, and it settled on top of Draco's expensive linen shirt.

                "This day could not get any worse," he said darkly, as he slid into bed.

                Hermione immediately pressed up against him.

                _Oh, yes it could._

"Ron," she sighed, sounding quite amused by something.

                Draco's eyes popped open and he nearly fell off the bed.  Granger and the Weasel?  Who ever guessed.

                "Harry!" she almost giggled.

                Draco gagged.

                "Draco…" she murmured, burying her face into the pillow.

                Draco was horrified.  What kind of a dream could she be having that involved all four of them in such happy sounding terms?

                Needless to say, Draco had a very long, very sleepless night.   

                And while Draco was busy trying to figure out what exactly went on in Hermione's dream life, unbeknownst to him, Hermione opened one eye and smiled to herself.

Author's notes:  thanks for the reviews!  Ya'll are too kind.  New chapter… hm, I don't know when.  Oh, and if anyone can recommend a good beta-reader, send them my way.  On a more confused note, I have no idea what's going on with the indentation with this chapter.  Gah.

Kate- yup!  Well, actually, I wrote the third chapter a few months after the first two, but never posted it, and when your email came I went to look at the fic and suddenly realized that I had a third chapter and set about uploading it.  It's all thanks to you! *gives cookies*

TiffanyandCo-  aww, thank you!  I know that this whole Draco/Hermione plot is out of character, but thank you very much for the compliment.


	5. If You Give an Itch a Scratch

To be fair, Hermione hadn't always been awake.  Only for about half of the time had she actually been conscious, listening to Draco mutter and complain.  Somewhere around his ninetieth groan about being hungry she floated back into the real world, just in time to hear him slam the door behind him.

Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes.  Why in the world would Draco Malfoy be in her room wanting dinner? 

Hold on.  Number one question: Why in the world was Draco Malfoy in her room at _all_?

Disturbing didn't even begin to cover it, Hermione decided, rubbing her eyes again.  Some rule had to exist somewhere stating it was illegal for your archenemy to be in your room.  And if that one wasn't written down, something about having such a confusing problem right after waking up must be.  She would just have to find it later.  After making a mental note to look it up when she reached Hogwarts, she groaned and buried her face in her arms again.

Wait—was that…?

Bloody _hell_.

Footsteps-- unhappy ones, mind you- clunked their way towards a door.  _Her_ door.

And before Hermione could grab anything to convince Draco he really didn't want to be there-- a knife or a fire poker or even a pencil (though what good a pencil could do, she wasn't quite sure—convince him to study more?)—before she could even raise her head and proclaim she had returned to the waking world, the door opened and one disgruntled ferret stomped in.

 "Granger," he said in that familiar, pushy voice, "Wake up, I need to know a spell."

_Fat chance I'm telling _you_ anything, buster._

Crookshanks yowled at him.  Good boy, Hermione wanted to say.  I'll make sure you get tuna once he leaves.

Suddenly, the worst thing possible happened.  Hermione got an itch.  On her face.  So much for scratching it inconspicuously ("Hullo, Malfoy, let me just scratch my face and then I'll go back to being asleep, no problem!).

To make matters worse, the blasted itch wasn't one of the ones that would go away if you just scrunched up your face a little.  It was an itch that had set its suitcases down and announced, "Hello, Hermione, I'm here to stay!  What's for dinner?"

And no matter how desperately Hermione wiggled her nose and waggled her eyebrows, the itch refused to budge.

"Bugger off," Malfoy was telling her cat, and Hermione seized this moment while his attention was hopefully not on her, and turned her face to the side, her sleeve rubbing the spot on her cheek in just the right way to make the itch subside.  Ahhh.  Bliss.

"Bloody hell," she heard her intruder swear.  Poor Hermione could only think he must have gotten a look at her face.  Did she really look that bad?  Hermione almost reached up to rub her eyes again.  In fact, her hand even twitched before she stopped herself by asking herself why she would ever care what Malfoy thought of her beauty.  Or lack thereof.

She heard him start moving and prayed to everything he hadn't noticed her hand moving.  To distract him, she mumbled the first thing that came to mind:  "Don't forget the cookies."

Hermione didn't know Malfoy could laugh that hard.

And then the bloody itch returned with a vengeance.  "You're not getting rid of me that easily," it cackled at her.

And now she couldn't even move her face.  Bloody everything.

Only one thing to do.

While Malfoy was muttering something about her health, she rubbed her face against her sleeve.  Hard.

Unfortunately, she forgot that her arm was only so big.

Her head hitting the wooden table with a loud "thunk" reminded her of the fact.

_Ow_, was all she could think at the moment.  Malfoy kindly reminded her that couldn't be healthy.

_If it wasn't for you,_ she complained silently, _I would be in perfect health._

And then she just heard a lot of moving around interspersed with Crookshanks conversing with Malfoy.  It was a little hard to make out actual words, what with the pain ringing in her ears.  A very disgusted, "Alright!", however, was clearly heard and before Hermione could wonder what was all right, she found herself scooped up in Draco Malfoy's arms.

Well, then.  That was certainly unexpected.

He was warm, was the first thing that came to mind.  Not hot (as some of her Muggle friends would say, though that could be argued), just exceptionally warm.  And very snuggly.  In fact, Hermione could have stayed curled up against his chest for another few hours.

Unfortunately, the trip to the bed didn't last that long.  He set her on the soft mattress and she sighed, mumbling something about the cookies to reinforce her "I'm asleep, really" theory.  She waited a minute until she was sure he had exited her room, and then turned over onto her side—

--Just as she felt him slide into the bed.

Her face met with his bare chest and she couldn't stop her legs from pressing against his.  One traitorous arm managed to sling its way around his waist, very unintentionally pulling his warm self closer.

_Not.  Good._

Well, she reflected, she had gotten her wish.   A good ten hours stretched ahead before morning.  And apparently, she would be spending every blessed—or bloody, however you wished to look at the situation— minute of them next to Draco Malfoy.

_This.  Is.  Not.  Bloody.  Happening._

Funny, that was exactly what had left Ron's mouth when he heard the Chudley Cannons had opened a Quidditch camp.

"Ron," she sighed.  _I wonder how he's doing._

She felt Draco recoil in horror.  A pause, as a horrible, horrible plan formed in her decidedly not sleepy mind.

"Harry," she giggled.

Hermione heard Draco make retching sounds. 

And for the grand finale…

"Draco…"

She opened an eye and smiled into Draco's bare shoulder.

Thanks to Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy wouldn't be going to sleep any time soon.

Author's note:  A giant, chocolate chip cookie from my bakery if anyone can guess the book title this chapter's title spoofed.  Mad props to Kate, my most loyal reader!  


	6. Wierd Dreams and War Cries

Somewhere between dreams of Harry challenging Professor Trelawny to a Quidditch game and Ron and Neville making a mess in Potions and singing Professor Snape's eyebrows off, Hermione was pushed from peaceful sleep into the cruel land of the waking.  She let whoever did the nudging (more of a shove, really) know she didn't appreciate the summons by groaning and banging her head into her pillow.

Er, which was decidedly _not_ a pillow.

_Crikey Moses, _was all that her mind seemed to be capable of saying.

The Object That Was Decidedly Not A Pillow was none other than Draco Malfoy's shoulder.

_Oh dear. _

The events of the previous evening flooded over her, and she groaned again.  _Just wait until Harry and Ron find out that you spent a night in bed with Malfoy—oh, wait, they're _not_ going to find out, _are_ they?  Darn right,_ Hermione told herself, and decided a long, hot shower was the only thing that would make her feel better.  So, she began the long and trying process of getting out of bed.  First, she had to throw off the comforter smothering her and doing wonders for her hair.  Then, she had to shove the blanket away, depositing the majority of the folds onto Malfoy.  Her final task before freedom was to untangle the sheet from around her legs, which was completed with no small effort.

Finally, she was free.

Hermione was almost ready to spring out of bed when she felt herself being drawn closer into the center of the bed… closer to _him_.  And before she could do anything, Hermione was back in the same position she had spent the last ten hours in.

_Look on the bright side._

_Oh, wait a minute, _what_ bright side?_

Malfoy made matters worse tightening his arms around her waist and tucking her head under his chin, so Hermione was sure her hair must have been sticking up his nose.

_Serves him right, the nasty bugger._

Hermione considered her options.  One: languish away all morning in bed, in Malfoy's arms, get nothing done, and have one whopper of a tale to tell when she finally made it to Hogwarts.

_Not.  Bleeding.  Likely._

So, the well-prepared Hermione brought out Plan B.

She took a deep breath, and shoved Malfoy as hard as she could.  Hermione savored her moment of triumph she watched his eyes open wide in shock, and somehow, as he tumbled over the side of the bed, she managed to keep her front row center seat, watching his descent onto the floor.

 It wasn't until they hit the floor that she realized exactly how she had managed that.

Malfoy's eyes calmly looked up at her flustered, brown ones.

"Do you often wake up your bedmates with that kind of a greeting?" he asked, smirking.

Hermione let out a scream (more of a war-cry) and elbowed him in his (regretfully well toned) stomach.  His arms left her waist and were too busy holding the aforementioned body part to stop her from standing and stomping into the bathroom, slamming the door with a very emphatic BOOM.


	7. Spells Without A Money Back Guarantee

That went well, Draco decided as he climbed back into the bed and made himself comfortable.  Even though hunger still plagued him, he had started Hermione's day on an awful note, and therefore, his had begun on a beautiful one.  Nothing gave him greater pleasure than annoying the Golden Girl—excuse me, the _Head_ Girl.  Draco snarled at nothing as he lay in bed, listening to the shower water run, planning his next way to irritate Granger.

The bed stunt had been a stroke of brilliance, if he did say so himself.  He had felt her moving around and caught on quickly to the idea she wanted nothing more than to get away from him.  So, of course, Draco had to do everything in his power to keep her with him.  This battle of wits and wills he had engaged her in—though she was quite unwilling—sang to him that It was the obvious cure to his boredom.  

Now, Draco just had to make sure Granger understood that.

Though, he admitted, she did a fine job playing along, however unintentional.  Did she always act like this around Potty and Weasel?  If so, perhaps that was the reason they kept her around.  She certainly wasn't much fun otherwise, what with all the studying she did.

The shower water stopped, but Draco was too comfortable to exit while he still had a few minutes of safety left.  He figured facing her wrath and elbows would be a heck of a lot more fun than facing the grandmother downstairs at the desk.

"Correctio Cincinnata!"  He heard from the bathroom.  Draco cocked his head, trying to figure out what she was trying to do.  

"Non torqueo!"

"Desino Cincinnus!"

"…Derigo?"

Draco heard a sound of disgust and something like objects hitting the floor.  _Temper tantrum, Granger?  _He yawned and waited for her to emerge.

A few minutes later, a very disgruntled and bushy-haired Hermione stalked out of the bathroom, glaring at everything but him.  Come to think of it, she wasn't even _looking_ at him.  Draco studied her for another minute as she bustled around, still not looking at him, moving books here, putting clothes away there… clothes?

He looked down at himself.

Clothes.  He needed some clean clothes.  He had a pair of pants that he'd worn all of yesterday, not mention slept in, and a shirt that now looked more like another cat with the amount of fur on it.  He wrinkled his nose, wondering what Granger had in her suitcase.

A shudder ran through him at the thought of wearing her clothes.

"Granger," he said, enjoying the way she jumped at the sound of his voice.  "You wouldn't happen to have any men's clothes-" he stressed the "men's" "-on you, would you?"

The look she sent his way could only be described as scathing.  "Malfoy, I'm not a cross-dresser."

"But you practically live with two guys," he objected, then remembered he needed to be on her good side (at least until he got something clean to wear). "I mean," he hastily back-tracked, "you're best friends with them.  Surely you have something of theirs you kept over the summer."

He hit something.  Her eyes skittered away and looked anywhere but at him.

"Granger?" he prodded.

"They're Muggle clothes," she tried, "A purebred like you wouldn't like them."

"Granger," he growled leaning towards her and inwardly smirking at the way she backed away though he hadn't moved from the bed, "Unless you want me to walk around naked, I suggest you get me clothes _now_."

That did the trick.  She scuttled away and dug into a drawer and after a minute, threw a few things at him.

"They were Ron's gifts from America," she glared at him.  "Now I'll have to wash them before I give them to him."

From under the shirt that landed on his head, Draco innocently blinked at her.

But Hermione was not amused.  She had gone back to the old routine of avoiding his eyes and had starting organizing the many papers floating around.

Clothes in tow, Draco stood up and shuffled his way into the bathroom.  Even though the day had started well, he hadn't really wanted to get on Granger's bad side.  After all, she was his only entertainment for the upcoming week.

Bloody everything.  

----

Hi, people!  trinity here.  Okay, so I did a double update today.  Why?  Cause I felt like it.  That and I'm going to be gone over the weekend, so I won't have time to update then… anyway.  

*does the Kate-the-Awesome-Reviewer Dance*  woohoo! Look at me go!

DarkDemonSlayer- thank you!  I know… I want a Stalking!Draco… heck, any kind of a Draco.  *sigh*  all I want for Christmas… *hums and wanders off*

Thanks again, guys- to anyone that reviewed, listed me in their favorite stories, or even put me on an Author Alert.  You made my week!


	8. A One Way Trip To Africa For One, Please

"The nerve!" Hermione cried as she finally left her room.  Her hair did that funny crackling-with-electricity thing it did whenever Fred and George bugged her while she tried to study.   "He sleeps in my room and then has the _nerve_ to demand I clothe him!  Stupid aristocratic prats," she spat out as she stomped down the hallway.  The stairs sensed her anger and didn't even _try_ to change around on her.  "I bet he did that bed thing just to annoy me," she managed through gritted teeth, the ends of her hair sending off sparks.  When she finally reached the lobby, she realized the room was devoid of other people.  Which was probably a good thing, as Hermione wasn't exactly in the best mood.  She stalked over to her favorite table (the one whose teapot served hot chocolate topped with whipped cream), dropped her bag on the floor, and poured herself a steaming cup.

"What a start to an otherwise lovely day," she grumbled, drawing pictures of Draco Malfoy's face being run over by hippographs in the checkered tablecloth with her wand.  Hermione wandered in daydreams where she sent Malfoy to the furthest corner of Antarctica or some remote village of Africa.  

_Preferably one where he is forced to marry a woman with a monkey on her head._

Hermione shook her head at herself.  There must be something she had to do, other than sit around and plan Malfoy's nuptials with a native.  She dug her planner out of her bag and flipped it open.

"Your potions essay is due in a week!" it screeched at her.

"Yes, I know, thank you." Hermione poked the talking book with her wand, taking a sip of her warm, chocolatey beverage.

"You need to get your Arithmancy book!" it shrieked.

Hermione rolled her eyes.  Perhaps a charmed planner wasn't such a good idea.  She calmly ignored it, leaving her table and stepping over to one of the overstuffed chairs, sinking into the seat with a sigh.

"You need to buy Crookshanks a new leash, wrap Harry and Ron's presents, and write to your parents!"

"They're in the Bahamas!" an exasperated Hermione told the planner.   Now would probably be a good time to get up and close the darn thing… but the table was so far away… and it was only a book… and she was so comfortable…

"Make your bed!" it howled, as if picking up on Hermione's lack of respect and lashing out as best as it could, being an inanimate object that was several feet away from her.  "Organize your pen case!  Clean out your bag!  Fold your underwear!"

Hermione stared in shock.  Not at her planner (even though that was a definite low blow, even for a book), but at the figure who had arrived near the fireplace just in time to hear about her undergarments.

No, not Santa Clause.  

_Would have been nice if it had been, _Hermione mused, _I've been a good girl this year._

None other than Draco Malfoy stood at the other side of the room, looking slightly surprised at the planner's unusual greeting.  

"Granger," he began, raising a brow.

_Here it comes_, thought Hermione with an acute sense of dread, turning a violent shade of red, _some crack or insult about my knickers.  _She closed her eyes, willing herself to disappear.

But instead of hearing Malfoy's voice making a snide remark concerning underclothes, the only sound she heard was silence.  She opened an eye and was dumbfounded to see Malfoy shutting her planner.  

"That's not a very nice book," he said.

Hermione could only shake her head- whether in a "yes, I agree" or a "this is bad, very bad", she couldn't decide.

Malfoy looked around the room, his grey eyes taking in every teapot and table and shelf and chair in the room.

_Okay, now here it comes.  'What a poor choice of lodgings, Granger.  My mansion is so much better.'_

"Are those teacups for anyone's use?" he asked, nodding towards a shelf stacked with every kind of teacup imaginable.__

The mute Head Girl nodded again.  _Perhaps one day I can develop a language where everything is said by moving one's head._

Malfoy stepped over and selected a white teacup with blue and green flowers dotting the sides.  "Which teapot do you suggest?"

_Please tell me I'm not having a civil conversation with Malfoy._

"I suppose this one," he answered his own question, moving over to the table where her planner lay.  He poured the drink into his cup, watching the whipped cream froth at the brim of the porcelain mug.  Malfoy frowned at it.  "What is it?"

"Hot chocolate," she squeaked, finally dragging her voice back from its vacation in sunny California.

"Granger," the superiority was ever so apparent in his deep voice, "I know what hot chocolate is.  My question was, what is _this_ stuff?" He tilted the cup in her direction, pointing at the fluffy white clouds hiding the brown brew from his view.

"If you had specified, I might not have taken you for an idiot who doesn't know what hot chocolate is," Hermione snarked back at him.  Had she not been busy not meeting his eyes, she would've seen the smile that flitted across his face.   But by the time she recruited enough courage to form a small army to look up at him, his face returned to it's "I'm better than you because I have boxers with the Malfoy Family Crest on them" look. 

"I see." Draco eyed the frothy cream floating on his drink.  "Well, I suppose it's safe to eat."

"No, this is all a part of my plan to poison you," Hermione rolled her eyes, taking a drink of her own teacup.

Screwing his eyes shut, Draco took a hesitant sip out of his cup.  Hermione smiled at the sight of Malfoy looking so uncertain. 

_Rather cute picture, in'nit?_

"No!" Hermione yelped, nearly upsetting her cup into her lap.

Malfoy jumped and blinked at the flustered Gryffindor.   "What'd you do that for?" he demanded.

But his question was left unanswered as Hermione burst into giggles.  A puff of whipped cream dotted Malfoy's nose as if he wore a white clown nose.  Malfoy frowned, reaching up to touch his face and looked down his nose, as if shocked at the peculiar sensation.  

"Malfoy," Hermione gasped, brushing a tear away from her eye, "here."  She threw a wadded up napkin at him.  

Ever dignified, Malfoy took the napkin and rubbed his nose until all traces of white had disappeared.  "So, Granger, what are the plans for today?"

_Nothing that involves you,_ she thought.  "Nothing that involves you," she said.

Malfoy raised a brow.  "But I was so excited about trying on more dress robes with you!"

"Oh, come off it," Hermione snapped, irritated at him for being such a prat.  And irritated at herself for getting irritated with him so quickly.  And irritated because her hot chocolate was getting cold.  Just irritated in general.

Surprisingly enough, Malfoy sobered.  "Really, Granger.  I figure that we've got another week before the train comes, and we're the only people each other knows… you connect the dots."

Hermione smirked.  "It's easy enough when I just look at your face."

He looked highly offended.   "Malfoys do not struggle with acne, like you Muggles might."

"Muggles don't struggle with their noses sinking into whipped cream, like you Malfoys might."

_Okay, so that was lame.  But it was all I could come up with on short notice._

Even more surprisingly, Malfoy didn't come back with a smarmy comment.  He just smiled a little.

That's what scared Hermione the most.

"So, Granger, what say you about us working on that Potions essay together?"

_Tune in next week for another edition of "Things You Never Thought You'd Hear Out of Draco Malfoy's Mouth."_

---

AN:  yo!  Sorry this chapter took longer than the others… I hit a mini case of writer's block until today, when I spat out almost half the chapter in ten minutes.   Please note the formatting of this chapter has been decidedly screwy.  I'm pretty sure the italics have finally worked out and gone where I wanted them to, but you never know.  This is about the sixth time I've had to upload this stupid chapter, and I'm too tired to do it again.

Charmed cookies and magical muffins to Kate, the coolest reviewer ever!

Dracos_kiki—wow, you definitely get the award for most reviews from one person.  Thank you!

Jolle_post, FuMan Skeeto, Draco's-Tootsie23 – thank you very much for the reviews!


	9. Game Over

"Please tell me you did not just beg me for my company and send out a cry for help with that potions essay," was all Granger could say, trying to show some of her Gryffindor courage, but her eyes betrayed her, darting about as if searching for an escape route.

Draco looked offended, sitting down in the seat across from the witch who looked like she was about to have a nervous breakdown.  "Malfoys do not beg," he informed the girl.

"Malfoys don't sleep well at night, either, do they?" Granger shot back.

One eyebrow rose and the wheels turned behind thoughtful grey eyes.

One look at Granger's face told him everything he needed to know.  The bloody girl's mouth had relaxed into a confident smirk.  "Insomnia getting to you?" she asked, leaning forward slightly.

Now, that wouldn't do.  Draco leaned in, and the smirk disappeared faster than the food off of Ron Weasley's plate.  Miss Head Girl shrank back.  

"No, I think I'm getting to you."

The Golden Girl kept leaning back as Draco leaned forward, but she had hit the back of her chair.  Determined to get away from him no matter what the cost, she started scooting her chair away from him.

_A new form of tag?_ pondered Draco.

And then Granger's chair hit the wall.

_Game over,_ Draco thought.

Quicker than you could say "Harry Potter", Draco pounced on the girl, one arm on either side of her head, his body caging her in the chair.

"Say you'll—"

"Marry you?" she raised a brow.  "But what will I wear?"

_Granger has pluck_, Draco admitted.  He shrugged.  _All the more fun for him_.  "Name the date."

"When hell freezes over," she spat.

"I'll mark it on my calendar," he smirked, imitating her self-satisfied smile only moments earlier.  "Let's elope."

"Let's not and say we didn't," she snarled.

Draco leaned down even further, their faces mere inches apart.

"Granger," he growled, noting her response to the tone.  Much more effective when she was awake.

He paused to draw out the tension.  Draco, close enough to count her eyelashes, could see the steady up-and-down movement of her chest as she breathed and the gentle throb of her pulse.

"You're making things more difficult than they need to be, Granger," he continued, dragging his eyes down the side of her face and along the soft skin of her neck.  He could smell a faint scent of… something.  He wondered how she smelled so nice.  Perhaps lotion?  Perfume?  Or maybe body wash.

"My face, Malfoy," she said irritably, bringing him back from his thoughts about moisturizers, "you want to look at my face."

He raised his eyes to meet hers.  "If you say so."  His eyes lingered on her lips.  Why hadn't he noticed before what nice lips Granger had?

The thought was so revolutionary he felt compelled to push her away with all his strength.  Unfortunately, he forgot her chair had already met the wall, and the wall refused to move any further.  So one Draco Malfoy found himself sprawled on the floor for the second time that morning, only this time without an irritated Granger on top of him.

"Malfoy," said Granger, looking quite smug from her seat.  "Really, your equilibrium seems off today.  Should I ring a doctor?"

One growl, one tug, and one scream later, Granger hit the floor.

----

Author's Notes:  wow!  Many review for the last chapter- you have no idea how freaked out I was when every time I went to my inbox there were at least three or more "you have a review!" emails sitting there.  I felt like they were bringing proverbial sunshine to a cloudy day.  *smiles*  thanks to everyone.  Let's see… anything special about this chapter?   Er, I'm sorry it's short.  And it would've been up two days ago, had FF.net not had a nervous breakdown…

RedundantGoddess- thank you!  Do I get a pie now?  Can I make a request?  I really like cherry pie.  *nods and rubs stomach*  or if you're out of cherries, I'll take blueberry.  Heck, I'll take anything.

Megz- your review made me really happy.  I do enjoy writing (especially this fic- such a good release) and I'm really, really pleased you seemed to notice it.  Thank you!

Armmonde and Callie- thank you!  More will be coming as soon as I can think of it!

"I'm better than you because I have boxers with the Malfoy Family Crest on them"- nice name.  *snickers*  glad you think it's funny- it's one thing to be funny face to face and totally harder to be funny on screen.  Thanks!

Kole17- thank you!  You have no idea how happy it makes me to get a review that has more than one sentence to it.  

TokyoBaby2040 and FuMan Skeeto- here's your update!  Hope you approve!

v son sayian- you know, I have no idea what's going to happen when they get to school.  I don't even know if I'll get that far… it might even become a second fic.  *shrug* we'll see how it goes.

Dracos-kiki- well, I'm glad you found your way here.  D/Hr are my favorite fics too.  *grins*

Kate hater-  er, well, I'm not sure whether your reviews were compliments or complaints.  Out of curiosity, how am I being predictable?  I'd like to stop that if possible… I want to surprise my readers.  *poke* your name's not very nice.

And last but certainly not least…

Kate- *throws arms around you and starts singing Kum-By-Yah*  it took me less than a week!  Aren't you proud?  *rummages around in drawer and digs out a cool pen, a dusty pack of gum, and a eraser shaped like a penguin for you*  there you go!  (and if you were curious, yes, those things are really in my desk.)

If I forgot anyone, my deepest apologizes.  Just yell at me in a review and you'll be at the top of next chapter's list.


	10. Of Wands and Ankles

"Draco_—"_

_This is it_, thought Draco suddenly, as he watched Granger's face become one mess of fiery doom aimed at one person (namely, him), _this is the defining moment in our relationship.  We have taken the next step.  We have called each other by our first names._

The thought made him shiver.

Time froze as the girl next to him continued yelling at him and as he contemplated what this meant to his life.  _We have built a new bridge.  Our souls have been forged together in this moment._

_"—BLOODY _MALFOY!"

Or not.

"I will hex you so hard into next week your _mother_ will cry!  Malfoy!  Do you know how much of a living hell you have made the past day for me?  Malfoy, you are dead.  You hear me?  DEAD!"  Granger started searching her pockets for her wand, most likely to carry out the death threat established previously.

Draco cocked his head for a moment, watching her.  It was really quite impressive the way she got her hair to send off those little sparks.   Charming, really.  He continued watching her search through her pockets, then began browsing through his own.  He was a sticky-fingered, smooth, hot, rich little guy, after all.  Who knows?  He could have swiped it without even meaning to.

But neither of them found the ten and ¾ inches, mahogany wand with the center of a unicorn hair that was rather disinclined to bend and good for Transfiguration and Charms in any of their pockets.

"Where in the name of all that is holy is my wand?!" cried Granger, looking even more distressed than before and like she was going to cry.

Then they both saw it.

Lying only a few feet away from the two was said ten and ¾ inches, mahogany wand with the center of a unicorn hair.  

In a second, both had scrambled up and raced towards the desired piece of wood.

Draco allowed Granger to get all of two victorious steps ahead of him before leaning down and neatly grabbing her ankle, forcing her onto the ground.

Again.

_Dang_, he thought, a smirk on his face as she hit the floor and he sauntered over to pick up her wand, _I am just too good._

"Really, Granger, everyone says you're so smart.  I'm surprised you fell- excuse the pun- for the same trick twice."  He picked up her wand and did one of those neat, spin/twirl tricks around his fingers as he turned back to her, expecting more wrath and fire to come bubbling up from the girl.

But said girl was simply sitting on the ground, her back to the smug blonde boy.  Draco could hear snippets of her conversation with herself, and she didn't sound very happy.  Not like she was ever happy with him around, but you know.

"Stupid bugger… I can't believe… stupid race!  …going to walk around now?"

It was then Draco realized her hands were wrapped around one ankle and she wasn't moving.  _Great_, he congratulated himself, tempted to poke his own eye out with the offending wand, _first I ruin her morning and then I ruin her ankle.  Boy, I am just too bloody good._

"Granger," he tried, taking a few apologetic steps forward and offering the wand to her, "here, you're probably going to need this later on—"

"…bugger all of this, I can't take it… can't wait to see… oh, _accio wand_!"

And perhaps Draco saw wrong, but he _thought_ he saw the wand just sort of… fly from his hand and fall next to the witch with the twisted ankle. 

But then again, he could've just dropped it.

"Listen, Granger," he tried again.  "I think maybe—"

"You've done quite enough for today, don't you think?" Granger said shrilly at him, glaring up at him, and the glint of tears startled Draco from his Snarky Mood.  "You've ruined my morning, you threw me on the floor twice, you almost stole my wand, and you made my hot chocolate get cold!"

Draco didn't even dwell on the absolute wrongness of her wording choice.  It was only the right thing to do.

Okay, well, maybe he dwelled, just a little.  But not much.  

Promise.

"Granger," he started again, but the stupid Gryffindor wouldn't let him get a word in.

"Why don't you just go back to whatever rat-infested hotel you were staying at before you decided to crash my room and stay there until the Hogwart's Express comes?  In fact, why don't you just stay there and miss the train?  Then my last bloody year at Hogwart's will be perfect and Draco Malfoy free!  Oh, but those two things would be synonymous, wouldn't they?"  She buried her face in her knees.  "God, is it too much to ask that you just take this affliction away?  Send me the plagues.  I'll take locusts, I'll take water turned into blood, even give me the death of my first born son, but God, please take this bloody monster away!"

Draco was more than a little offended.  He tried to be nice, and he got called a bloody monster?

Ingratitude these days.  The youth of England, really.  Just ship them all off to America, for all Draco cared.

"Granger," Draco growled for the fourth and final time, "Just do us all a favor and shut up, will you?"

"I don't think you're in any position to tell me _anything_—"

Draco rolled her eyes and scooped her up in his arms.  

"Well, now I think I am."  He smirked down at her.

"What do you think you're going to do with me?" she shrieked at him, beating on his shoulder.

_Merlin, I pity the man who marries her._  "I'm taking you up to your room, since you're obviously incapable of getting there by yourself," he answered her, much in the way people do when they've spent the past four hours listening to an in-law yack on about their methods of keeping a house.

"I could get there perfectly if it wasn't for you and your grabbing my ankle fetish!" Granger retorted, much in the manner of a person who has spent a day living with Great Aunt Cecilia, who is hard of hearing and doesn't like the person with whom she's spending the day.

As Draco approached the stairs, they quivered for a minute, trying to make up their minds whether to switch or not.

"I've got an injured girl here, work with me!" he sighed, and thankfully, the stairs stayed.

"Oh my freaking heck, are you talking to the _stairs_?  You really do need a doctor, Malfoy, you're going insane.  Or already are insane, take your pick."

"Does it really matter?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," she snapped.

"Oh, believe me, I wasn't rolling them at you," he rolled them again.

"Stop that!" she poked him.

"Okay, we're here," Draco said, opening the door and sitting her down inside the room.  "You going to be okay?"

"What does it matter to you," the sullen girl muttered.  "Now I have to waste this beautiful day with a broken ankle.  But you're probably happy!  One less Mudblood to dirty the streets of Diagon."

"Now you're just being difficult," he said patronizingly, resisting the temptation to pat her on her bushy head.

"Isn't that what you want?!" she shrieked.

"To make it up to you, let me take you out for dinner tonight at seven," Draco responded smoothly, raising a perfectly plucked brow at her.  "What do you say?"

Hermione got this furious sort of look on her face, and then reached up and smacked him clean on the face.  "Dinner is the least you can do," she fumed, and then slammed the door in his face.

_Well, then_, thought Draco, massaging his cheek.  _Did I just get me a date with Miss Golden Gryffindor?  Go figure.  _He shrugged, and then sauntered down the hall, already planning for his night with Granger.

---

Author's Notes:  well, I'm really sorry this time, but it wasn't my fault.  Actually, come to think of it, it wasn't my fault last time, either, but I digress.  This chapter took longer than normal because I caught pneumonia.  In fact, I still have it, but I'm getting better.  But this past week I had a temperature anywhere from 100 to 103 and basically, I wasn't in the mood to do _anything_.  But I was thinking of our favorite Gryffindor and Slytherin couple the whole time, and this chapter came out fairly quickly and easily, once I was well enough to sit up.

IceCristal – dude, I want Draco for my birthday, too.  Talk about better than a car!

Tokyobabe2040- hey, dude, that game of Tag and Seek (just combine the two, makes it easier) sounds like fun.  I gotta play that with my boyfriend some time.  Oh, wait, I don't have one.  *makes a mental note to get one for the sole reason of playing Tag and Seek*  and don't worry, I have a special moment reserved for Ron and Harry to make their entrance.

Dracos_kiki – I think my ears weren't supposed to hear your fantasy *covers poor ears*  they're a little non-used to hearing such fantasies as yours.  *grin*  

Draco's-Tootsie23 - *ponders* why does saying you're proud of me not sound right?  I think it sounds fine.  But I'm sheltered.  Perhaps I'm missing something?

Hustler – good that one of us can laugh right about now!  Every time I try to laugh I practically end up coughing my lungs up.

Blue-chick – my goodness.  Your review almost made me cry.  *shakes you*  brilliant, I tell you!  You're brilliant!  No, this isn't a story I update only once every month.  See, I started this story… a long time ago, and only recently picked it back up.  So there was like… one update back long ago, and like, ten within the past few months.  Don't worry, I'm all about updating.  When I don't have pneumonia.  Yeah.

V son sayian – well, apparently there's a date in store… we'll see what else!

And to the wonderful and encouraging Kate – okay, so I didn't make the time frame requirement this time, but you'll forgive me, right?  See, this update brings… um, a neat, artsy black and white picture and another of those penguin erasers (I have a family of them).  Thanks for the steady reviews!

Thank you to everyone.  You guys are awesome- thanks for the encouragement and that… gee, come to think of it, this batch of reviews has been pretty long.  I mean, not as many, but each person had more to say, which definitely makes up for it.  So thank you very much! 

As for when the next chapter will be up… er, we'll see.  It might be slow, thanks to ol' P. Nee Monia.  *slaps him on back and grimaces*


	11. I'm going to do WHAT?

_Did I just get a date with Draco "I'll sleep with anything in a skirt" Malfoy?  _

_Bloody_ hell.

Hermione leaned against her door and groaned a long groan, releasing all the misery and pain she felt at the moment.  A date with Malfoy.  An ankle injured by Malfoy.  Sanity stolen by Malfoy.  It was all his fault.  Well, this was turning out to be a lovely week, wasn't it?

The girl growled and beat her fists on the door.  "It's not fair!" she cried.  "Why me?  Why, of all Hogwarts girls, did it have to be _me_?"   Moaning, she beat her head on the door until she realized that particular method of releasing anguish gave her a headache.  Then she moved to her bed and used her pillow instead of the door.

"A date.  With Malfoy."  The words made her gag.  "My first date.  Ever.  With Malfoy."

She groaned again, covering her face in her pillow.  Perhaps she could smother herself unconscious and avoid the date that way.  Or hide in some little corner of Diagon Alley, where he couldn't find her.  Or just refuse to come out when he came to pick her up.

But then he'd probably break down the door, and then Hermione would have to pay for a new one… which her wallet was decidedly not thick enough for.  

Screwing her eyes shut, she pushed all thoughts of him away.  Let's think about something nicer.  _Something less Malfoy-ish._

_Like cleaning._

_Like chocolate._

_Like going on a date._

_With Malfoy._

"Argh!" she yelled, covering her eyes (as if that would help any).  "Go away, you nasty bugger!  It's enough that you torment me in real life!"

But apparently, Malfoy was there to stay.  Images were tossed before her tightly shut eyes like photographs, each showing a snapshot of what a date with The Bloody Malfoy might be like.  Hermione and Malfoy walking down a street.  Hermione and Malfoy eating dinner.  Hermione and Malfoy looking happy.

Yeah.  Right.

Slumping over to the mirror hanging on the wall, Hermione studied the reflection peeking back at her.  Why was Malfoy so keen on her?  She wasn't egotistical enough to presume he fancied her looks.  Heck, he probably didn't even fancy her.  So why did he keep coming back?  He was like The Boy Who Would Not Leave.  Staring into the mirror, she pictured Malfoy standing next to her.  He was everything she was not: smooth, stylish, Slytherin… and blonde.  The Mental Malfoy smirked at the mirror and slid his arms around Hermione's waist, whispering something incredibly romantic into her ear, while the annoying owl flapped its wings outside the window…

Owl?  Window?  

Frowning into the mirror, she noticed the reflection of a winged creature buzzing outside of her room's window.  Oh, so that's where that came from.  Limping over to the window, she opened it, allowing the bird to perch on the windowsill.  Slung around its fuzzy body was a bag filled with letters.  

"For me?" Hermione asked the owl, who fluffed its feathers in an affirmative sort of way.  

Reaching into the miniature purse, Hermione dug out a fat bundle.  With delight, she noticed at the top of the stack were letters from Harry and Ron.  Following those was a letter from her parents, and then a parchment from Hogwarts.   With a dreamy sigh, she stopped perusing the mail, drifting away into La La Land.  Hogwarts… her home away from home.  Hogwarts, where she would be presiding as Head Girl.  Hogwarts, where you—ow!

The nasty owl had grabbed a piece of her frizzy hair and _tugged_.  The result was a sharp scream from Hermione and the frantic flying backwards of the owl.  "There are better ways to get humans' attention," she snarked at the owl.  "You'll lose your customers if you continue behaving like this."

Meekly, the owl flew back and stuck its leg out.  

"Oh, all right," Hermione grumbled, "but you won't be getting a tip from me."  Scooping some change up off the table, she deposited three winking sickles into the tin container attached to its leg.  Hooting in an apologetic manner, the owl soared into the air, a caramel colored strand of hair still in its beak.

Painfully making her way back to her bed, Hermione arranged herself on the quilts, plumped the pillows, and generally made herself ready to devour her precious letters.

She'd do anything to get her mind off of Malfoy and the inevitable date.

The top letter was a simple white envelope, addressed in Harry's familiar scrawl.

_Dear Hermione,_

It began,

_How are you doing?  Finally escaped from the Dursley's and made it to the Burrow.  Bill and Charlie are here for a few days, along with Fred and George.  It's quite the full house, but it's loads better than Privet Drive.  _

_So, any news on the position of Head Girl?  Ron and I are positive you've nagged it.  There's no other witch as brilliant as our Hermione._

Hermione paused to sniffle and send a blessing Harry's way.

_We'll be arriving in Diagon Alley two days before the Hogwart's Express leaves.  How about we meet up and shop for supplies together?  Owl us and let us know._

_-Harry_

God bless Harry for remembering her concerns about becoming Head Girl.  While Ron had merely snorted and refused to accept any idea but that of Hermione receiving the golden badge, Harry had sat and listened to her moan and fret.   She made a mental note to buy him something extra next time she ventured into Diagon Alley.

Perhaps on her date with Malfoy.  Wouldn't he enjoy shopping for his arch-nemesis?__

_No thinking about Malfoy_, she reminded herself firmly, going to the next letter.

It was a slightly crumpled envelope, addressed with Ron's familiar leaky quill.  The spots of ink made it almost too messy to read.  Hermione was surprised the Owling Office had been able to direct it her way.__

_Hermione,_

_Hope you're not going nutters alone at Diagon Alley._

"Nutters" didn't even begin to describe it.

_We're missing you at the Burrow- I still don't know why your parents didn't just let you come stay here.  You would've had to room with Ginny and Luna in the spare closet, but I don't think that would've been a problem.  Bill and Charlie have been helping Harry and me practice Quidditch, and we're sure to whoop Slytherin this year._

_Harry probably told you we're coming to Diagon Alley a few days early.  When you owl back, make sure you tell us where we can meet you._

_Miss you,_

_Ron_

With a smile, Hermione tucked his letter next to Harry's, opening her third correspondence of the day.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hope your weeks in Diagon Alley have been pleasant.  The weather here is wonderful!  Your father has already bought five ghastly colored shirts that I am planning to hide as soon as we return home.  I know you weren't excited about staying for two weeks in Diagon Alley, but I really didn't feel comfortable leaving you with your friend Ron.  I've heard rumors about his two twin brothers that made me fear for you._

Hermione rolled her eyes.  Fred and George weren't that bad.  Sure, there was that once incident in sixth year involving a fourth year's eyebrows, but that wasn't entirely their fault.

_Keep brushing and flossing daily!  And don't overload on sugar just because we're not there to watch you._

_Love,_

_Mum_

Rolling her eyes, Hermione set the letter on top of Harry and Ron's.  Unrolling the parchment bearing the Hogwart's crest, Hermione's stomach sank as she read the following:

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_I would like to inform you that on September 15 you will not need to be at Platform 9 ¾.  Instead, please wait in front of Flourish and Blotts at promptly 3:12.  The Head Boy and you will be riding in a carriage to Hogwarts to give you time to become acquainted with each other._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor McGonagall_

_Great_, thought Hermione dully.  _I won't even get to ride the train with the boys_.  She felt her eyes watering (stop, you stupid hormones, stop!) and to distract herself, she grabbed the last envelope.  It was unmarked except for the address written in a bold, slanting script.  Frowning, she flipped it over and withdrew a card, blank except for a single word.  Hermione stared at the card for a full two minutes, mind not accepting the word written.  

_It couldn't be, I would've thought of it._

She grabbed a dictionary and flipped through it, finger gliding down the page as she searched for answers.  Glaring at the dictionary, she grabbed one of her new Seventh Year textbooks, opening it immediately to Chapter 10.   After a few minutes of silence, she returned her somewhat moody gaze to the card.  She raised it until it was eye level, as if a different angle would help her verify the word.  

Then she hopped off the bed… accidentally landing on her sore ankle.  Hermione "Head Girl" Granger howled in pain as she hopped around on her good foot, cradling her ankle in her hands.  

"Blast you, Draco Malfoy," she cursed at him, still hopping in odd circles like a demented bunny rabbit.  Limping to her desk chair, she used it as a walker and slowly made her way back to her mirror.  Taking a deep breath, she picked up her wand and pointed it at her head.

"Crispulus!"

Nothing happened.

Frowning (she seemed to do a lot of that these past few days), she started to chew on the end of her wand, until she remembered the horror stories Moody told the fifth years about the dangers of wands.

"I've known wizards who have used their wands for toothpicks and spent the next year gluing their teeth back in!" he had roared.

So instead, Hermione just tapped the wand on her cheek as she stared in the mirror and waited.

And waited.

_How long does this bloody spell take, anyway?  I wouldn't be surprised if it multiplied my hair into a mass the size of Antarctica or something.  Or if my hair all fell out.  Or turned pink._

Hermione smooshed her face against the mirror, eyes glued to the reflection.  "Come on, hair," she begged.  "Do something!  Please!"

But the hair remained the frizzy bush it had been before she used any kind of spell.  And all the cajoling, pleading, and groveling Hermione did didn't change a thing.

"Fine!" she yelled, gathering her courage to try one last thing.  She'd kill him if this actually made the spell work, but she had to try.  "Draco Malfoy is hot!  Draco Malfoy is a God!  Draco Malfoy has the shiniest hair and the most beautiful eyes!  All the girls love Draco Bloody Frickin Malfoy!" 

Hermione stared, defeated, in the mirror at the fuzz decorating her head. 

 "Malfoy, I hate you," Hermione whimpered.

And then her hair tightened into the most beautiful curls she had ever seen.

Gone was the frizz that she had grown up with.  Her hair finally accepted its destiny and spiraled into long ringlets.  Definition, body, shine… all those things the commercials claimed, her hair now possessed.

Hermione didn't believe it for a minute.  She stared, awestruck, into the mirror, raising a hand to gingerly pat her new coiffure.  Then she shook her head lightly.  Ran her hand through her hair.  Shook her head a little harder.  Pretty soon, she was nothing short of head banging.  

More than a little winded, Hermione finally looked back in the mirror.  Her new curls were as shiny, as defined, and as full as when she started her impromptu mosh pit.

"Malfoy, you're a genius," she admitted to the empty room.

Then she sighed and limped her way over to her closet.

She had a date to get ready for.

---

Author's Notes:  Okay, everyone, I'm really sorry this took so long.  But the fact the chapter is way longer than any of my others should make up for it.  This chapter took forever because I just couldn't get the words out.  Even now, I'm not satisfied with the tone (I feel like I've lost the voice of the story), but I think this is as good as it will get.  Hope none of you hold it against me.  Stick around for the next chapter- it'll be back, I promise.  

SnugglesnWuggles – If I had Draco in my possession, I wouldn't let him go.  But maybe I would loan him out, if you were really good.

Dracos_kiki – wow, maybe I somehow infected my writing and sent a bug over your way.  Creepy.

Ice cristal- thank you for the get better wishes!  Thank you for reviewing!

Fan- hope you like this chapter J  it's certainly not short!

V son sayian- I'm glad I got better too.  Yup, that date will certainly be interesting…

Draco's tootsie23- thank you!  I'll update as soon as I can!

ThreeEaredBunny- aww!  Your review totally made my day.  So sweet of you to gush all over my story! *laughs*  I'm glad you think I'm not rushing it… on the contrary, I think I'm just crawling along!

White Crow- hi, you!  I'll be responding to your email after I post this!  Thanks so much for emailing me and reviewing me.  You're awesome!

TokyoBabe2040 – heh, if only I could just go boyfriend shopping and then return him if I don't like him. "Um, excuse me, this boyfriend doesn't like my kind of music.  Do I get a discount?"  Glad you liked the last chapter, and hope you liked this one, too.

Twin_v – aww, thank you!  You're so sweet!

Rinaula and EvErYtHiNg4NoThInG – here's your update, hope you like it!

Blue-chick – ehh, sorry about that. *dusts you off and sets you down*  thanks for your review, dude.  And good idea!  But as you can see, I took it in a little different direction… but I left in two memorials to you- didja catch them?  Gee, you're just so impatient for them to run into Ron and Harry… in good time, m'dear, in good time…

And finally…

Kate – my most faithful follower!  Your reviews always make me smile- a chapter is never complete unless I get a review from you.  *throws chocolate and flowers your way*  much love to you!


	12. Draco Malfoy Takes a Page

All in all, Draco Malfoy was deliciously pleased with himself.  

It had been a good morning, he decided, strolling through Diagon Alley, massaging both his bruised pride and bruised cheek.  That ankle incident was unfortunate, but good had come out of it.

Oh yeah, good had _definitely_ come out of it.

And he bet every Galleon he had that right at this moment, Granger was screaming her lungs out at him for that trick with the spell.

He actually hadn't done anything to the spell.  After leaving Granger's room, he had headed straight for the bookstore, sneaking into the fashion and beauty aisle.  Wouldn't do for anyone to see him nosing through a book joyfully proclaiming on its pink cover, "Be The Most Beautiful You Can Be!"

Every page illustrated some new way to improve yourself.  From yoga to self-manicures, no stone was left untouched in this quest for beauty.  _And there were certainly some quests in there_, Draco snorted to himself, the unhappy witches pouting and looking all together miserable in the "Before" section of the "Before and After Photos".  One witch sported chipped nails, another pointed at her wrinkles already developing.  Yet another wailed over her eyebrows, but the one that caught his attention was the girl holding a strand of dry, what the book called "damaged" hair.  She looked similar to Granger, Malfoy decided, and made a mental note to ask Granger if she'd done any modeling before.

And then he flipped to the "After" section.  Draco had to stare in awe at the pictures.  These girls couldn't be the same ones shown previously, could they?  The nail-biting witch waved perfectly manicured, shiny nails at him.  Unibrow Witch proudly sported two separate eyebrows.  All wrinkles had deported from the "I'm Too Young for Wrinkles!" witch.  And the witch with the hair problem, well… 

_Miracles _do_ happen_, a newly humbled Draco admitted.  

Encouraged by the picture, Draco read the instructions.

"Get the Look!" The book proclaimed.

Step One:  Wash and condition hair.  Make sure to leave conditioner in for at least two minutes.

_Step Two: Wring water out from hair.  Do not towel dry._

_Step Three: Apply straightening serum, beginning at roots, and working way down to tips of hair._

_Wait a minute_, Draco had thought, _I thought the girl had curly hair!  _A quick look at the picture revealed a very curled witch tossing her locks about.  With a shrug, Draco continued to read.

_Step Four: Allow serum to thoroughly coat hair and leave on for twenty to thirty minutes, until hair feels ¾ of the way dry.  Beware beginning step five too soon or too late.  If you continue with hair too wet or too dry, you must return to Step One._

_This book is bloody daft, Draco rolled his eyes, scanning down the page._

_Step Seventeen:  Apply two coats of hair spray: one on the top of the hair and one underneath._

_Step Twenty Three: Wrap inch-wide sections hair tightly around wand after casting a heating spell. _

_Step Thirty: Congratulations!  Enjoy your beautiful new hair!_

Warning: Extended use of this method may cause split ends.

"So much for that book," Draco muttered, pictures of cooing and winking models disappearing as he shoved that book back on shelf.  "Granger would never do all that.  She just wants some kind of spell."

Muttering to himself, Draco had traveled down the aisle, head sidewise, reading the titles of books lining the shelves.__

Become the New and Beautiful You!

Spells and Charms for the Genetically-Impaired Witch!

Tricks of the Trade: Miss Witch 2002 Shares her Makeover Story

CosmoWitch Winner Speaks Out: "Not Everyone Can Be as Beautiful as Me!"

Oh, please,_ Draco snorted._

Continuing at his half vertical, half horizontal position, Draco stopped at the end of the aisle, defeated.  He slumped down on the floor, head in hands, trying to think of what he should do.

_None of these books are right, _he grumbled silently._  It's not like Granger isn't beautiful, her hair just needs some help_.

If anyone had walked by at that moment, they would've seen Draco Malfoy beating his head against _101 Ways to Bring Your Inner Beauty Out._

"I do not think Granger is beautiful!" he spoke, voice still somewhat muffled by 101.  

"Good thing, dear," an absent voice answered him.

Horrified, Draco withdrew his face from 101 and searched for whoever had spoken to him.

"Over here, hun," the voice beckoned.

 Cautiously sticking his head around the corner, Draco searched for another person.  "Where are you?"

"Look down, dollface," the voice instructed.

Draco looked.

Propped up on a small shelf was the thickest book Draco had ever seen.  Worn, burgundy leather stretched over what looked like an impossibly heavy cover, gold writing embossing _Find the Book You Want_ on its cover. 

"What can I do for you, babycakes?" It asked him, ruffling its pages.

_Stop calling me pet names_, Draco thought sourly.  "I need to find a spell to either straighten or curl frizzy hair."  As an after thought, he added, "Preferably one where there's less than five steps."

Flipping through its pages faster than Draco's eyes could follow, the book finally stopped at a page.  As if an invisible hand reached down, the leaf was ripped out of the majestic book.  Draco grabbed it just as it was about to float to the ground.

Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase, 'taking a page out of your book'.

Looking down at the slip, Draco had read, _Charming Your Hair, page 218._

And the rest, as they say, is history.  Draco had looked the book up, turned to the page, copied the one-word spell on the card, conveniently leaving out the "this spell can take anywhere from five to ten minutes to take affect" warning the book advised he keep in mind, and sent it off to her via the Ready Owl Office next to the bookstore.

And now, Draco was strolling along, soaking up the sun, pondering on what he should give Hermione as a gift.

_It's not a peace offering_, he tried to convince himself.  But the furious look in her eyes sorta scratched that idea.  

Okay, okay.  It's definitely a peace offering.

So what would bush- er, No-Longer-Bushy-Haired Granger want?

Draco stopped at a cart filled with fresh flowers ("_Charmed to last longer than our competitors!")_.  Every girl liked flowers, right?  But after sniffing over a dozen different kinds of flowers, he couldn't find one he liked, and moved on.

_Jewelry_, he pondered, _perhaps jewelry would be nice._  But as he browsed through the racks of gold baubles, pendants, brooches, and earrings, he couldn't find anything that screamed "Granger!" at him.

Then he realized what was wrong with this picture.  Granger never had flowers around and she never wore jewelry.  So what did she always have with her?

Books.  Lots and lots of _books_.

Going into a different bookstore (_not_ because he was afraid that one of the clerks would remember him, Draco told himself, but because everyone wanted a bit of the Malfoy money), it only took a few minutes to pick out the perfect book for Bookworm Granger.  One stop at the pet store, and then he was on his way back to his hotel room to get ready for the evening.

Ladies and Gentlemen, watch out:  Draco Malfoy had a date.

---

Author's Notes:  this chapter was almost effortless compared to the last one.  And I got it out much quicker, too!  Perhaps Draco is just easier to write then Hermione, I dunno.  But I like this chapter much more than the last one- I think I got my voice back for the story.  What do you guys think?  

            Now, about this upcoming date.  I need help from you guys.  First, I need help from someone who can speak French.  If you could just tell me in a review or an email that you can speak the language, I would be eternally grateful.  Second, I want to know what you think this book Draco bought for her should be called.  I have an idea, but I'd like to hear yours.  I enjoy listening to your opinions and speculations on what will happen… you guys rock!

p.s.  I re-uploaded chapter 12, because the italics got screwed up.  So, if you care to go back and read the correct version, you're more than welcome to.

White Crow- thank you for your steady reviews and encouragement!

Rinaula- *grins* I like the spell part too.  I can just imagine uncoordinated Hermione headbanging…

ThreeEaredBunny- I think you get the prize for most ego-boosting review.  The fact you noticed the pains I take to make the grammer in this story as accurate as I know how makes me love you even more than I already did!  By the way… your penname rocks.

Amber-rules- well, I've definitely read some really funny fics about D/Hr that aren't mine, but thank you muchly for the compliment.  I do try to make it amusing.  Here's your update!

Pingwin- is your penname supposed to be like 'penguin'?  cause if so, that's brilliant… anyway, your review totally brought a smile to my face.  I'm so glad you've picked up on the fact I enjoy this story (probably more than I should).  Thank you for your review!

Blue-chick- oh yeah, longest review award definitely goes to you.  I love all your crazy ideas.  I think one day, I'll just write a story based purely off of your ideas, how about that?  I'm definitely loving the ideas you're giving me, I'm sifting through them to see which will work in with my plans… *rubs hands together evilly*

Cinder122- whew, I'm glad you think the story is paced well.  I mean, D/Hr is definitely not happening in the series, so I guess I can see why some people would just want to through them together, but I wanted this story to be a bit more realistic.  But who am I to call this realistic? *throws up hands*

Draco's-Tootsie23- you're very welcome for another chapter J  I'm very glad to give it to you.

TokyoBabe2040- your scientific study amused me greatly!  Was this update in time?  *rushes chapter to your side* don't die on me! I need all the reviews I can get! *laughs*

And finally…

Kate!  Kate!  She's our girl, though she doesn't live in an oyster, she's quite the pearl!  --okay, so that was the cheesiest thing ever, I'm sorry, it's late and I was up early this morning.  But the fact I'm willing to rhyme for you (and I'm a horrible rhymer) should make you feel even specialer!  Thank you for your constant support!


	13. MiniChapter: In Which Draco Prepares For...

6:33.  

It had been 6:33 for what seemed like an eternity.  Draco was sprawled on his bed in his fancy hotel room, lying on the silk sheets, surrounded by expensive vases and quality paintings hanging on the walls.  He was from one of the best families in the Wizarding world- he was a pureblood, for Merlin's sake!

And he was counting down the minutes until his date with the Mudblood.

It was pathetic, really.

So, what was he going to do for the remaining twenty-seven minutes?  

His options were few.  Go for a walk.  Organize his socks.  Make paper cranes and throw them out the window at unsuspecting folk walking below.  

Pathetic?  Downright heartbreaking, what he'd been reduced to.

"Merlin," he groaned, rolling over.  "How did I ever manage before I found her?"

_That sounded distinctly like a line from some cruddy romance movie.  _He curled his lip up in disgust.  It wasn't that he was in love with Granger.  But she was the only source of amusement (and a very good one at that) around for the next six days.

With a quick look at the clock (6:35, dangit) and a sigh of surrender, he reached for his stack of parchment paper.

He was in the middle of folding his first crane when something dark slammed into his window, little bits of feather floating around its round body as it bounced off the glass from the impact, then flapped its wings a few times, preparing to hurl itself into the window again.  Draco jumped up and opened the window, not wanting the death of a Post Owl to be on his hands.  

So instead of bird and window becoming one, the owl whizzed into his hand, feathers going up in a cloud around him.  Tied to the bird's leg was a scrap of paper.  Draco coaxed it off of the stunned owl's leg and unrolled it, reading the message written in a neat cursive.  He smirked.  _What a _girl_._  He tossed her letter onto the floor and walked over to his desk.

Absently stroking the bird, Draco pondered on his reply.   When he finally decided what to say, he grabbed a quill and a sheet of parchment from his stack intended to become birds.  After writing his answer, he folded the paper into a crane and walked over to the window, still holding the owl.  Taking a gentle breath, he blew the bird away.  The tiny crane began to flap its wings and fluttered away into the sky. 

"Sorry, old bird," Draco told the owl, releasing him out the window, "but I have my own way of doing things."  The still bewildered owl dropped two or three feet before remembering how to flap his wings and soaring into the sky.

Draco sat back down on his bed, sending a hopeful look at his timepiece.  "Only 6:40?" Draco sputtered.  "What am I supposed to do for twenty minutes?"  Groaning, he looked helplessly around his room that had now become his cage.  

His eyes fell on his bathroom.  

First thought: _Do I have time to take a shower?_

Second thought: _I have enough time to call up elemental spirits and bring down friggin  _rain_._

So Draco went and took a shower.

And at 6:54 he dashed out of his room, still pulling on robes and shoes, spewing curses, and sprinting as best as he could towards The Cat's Paw.

At 6:55 he skidded back in, grabbing Granger's book and the bag from the pet store, and running back out.  As he left, he nearly slid across the floor on a slightly crumpled scrap of paper.  For once, Granger had been short and to the point.  The parchment bore the age old, most important question a girl going on a date can ask: _What should I wear?_

---

Author's Notes:  yes, I know it was short.  Consider this chapter filler before we begin the date.  I know I said not to look for a chapter until later in April but… consider this an early Easter present for all my lovely reviewers.  Ooh, one last note- thanks to everyone that read Ten O'Clock.  I apologize for not posting this in the summary before, but that story was a one shot.  After people started going, "update soon!" I figured I should add that little bit into the summary.  Yeah.  To anyone that didn't get the ending… well, which part didn't you get?  no one told me, exactly.  I thought it was clear, but that could just be me…

Anyway, I'll do reviewer notes next chapter.  This is just a mini-update because I have a feeling writing this date will take me a while.  Hope you like it!  Happy Easter to everyone!  *dances off singing*  Amazing love, how can it be?  That you, my King, would die for me…Hallelujah, He is alive!


	14. The Beginnings of a Date

For the record, it was all Draco Malfoy's fault.  The now horrible week, the sprained ankle, the date- all his fault.

And the dress.  That was definitely his fault.  Never in her life, had Hermione been forced into a dress by a _boy_.

That's not to say Hermione hadn't ever worn a dress.  There was the time at Uncle Albert's wedding (her father's brother, also a dentist), where Hermione had been stuffed into this frothy pink dress reminiscent of a cotton candy, her shoes shined, her hair teased and cajoled into curls, and then promptly stuck into a bun, her little white gloves pressed and spotless.  Of course, being only seven years old, the hours of preparation had only held their perfection for about twenty minutes.  That was about how long it had taken for Hermione to burst into tears at being called a "brainy nerd" by her cousin, Douglas (_who grew up to be an janitor,_ she thought with no small amount of satisfaction), and then shove his face into the wedding cake.

She hadn't known it was the wedding cake, honestly.  She had just remembered seeing someone on the tele perform a similar stunt, making the shovee wail.

Which he did.  Loudly.

And of course, there were other times she had to wear a dress (her best friend's Bat Mitzvah, the Fourth Year Ball, her brother's graduation, her parents grand opening of their own dentist's office).  But almost all of those times, they been on _her_ terms.  Dresses were only reserved for special, deserving occasions.  Dresses were things to be respected and enjoyed.  Hermione was not a girl that could be forced into doing anything she didn't want to do—wearing a dress, most of all.  

Until now.

Now, Hermione's room looked like a bomb hit it.  All her clothes were thrown over various pieces of furniture.  Her shirts were on her desk, two skirts lay over the top of her closet door, a pair of pants was over the curtain rod, and Crookshanks purred atop the dress she wore to her brother's graduation.

"Argh!" she screamed at the clothes, grabbing her wand and swishing it furiously at the clothes laying haphazardly everywhere.  "You, shirt, back on the hanger!"  The shirt flew to the hanger and hung itself up in the closet.  "Skirts, down from there!"  The skirts flopped to the floor.  "Crookshanks, get off my dress!"  

But the cat didn't move.

Frowning, Hermione looked at her wand, and then at her beloved cat.  She shook the wand a little and swished it at him again.  

Then she remembered she was trying to command a _cat_.

Crookshanks just continued purring as she continued to clean up her room, sorting the clothes into piles:  Possibly, No, and Never To Be Caught Dead In By Draco Malfoy.

Throwing a blue shirt into the "No" pile, Hermione tried to guess what Malfoy had meant in his note.  "Look nice."  What was that?!  So much for being helpful.  It was all his fault, after all.

A skirt found its way into the "Possibly" pile and a tank top into the "No" pile.

"He's probably just trying to annoy me again," Hermione huffed, tossing a pair of pants into the "No" pile.  "'Look nice.'  Look nice, he says!  Just look nice!"  The messenger bird flopped its paper head atop her chest of drawers.  "Look nice, nothing else.  What is this, let's see how much we can confuse Granger?  Nice could mean a million different things!" she told Crookshanks.  "It could mean a skirt, or it could mean a dress!"  She threw another shirt into the "No" pile and eyed her piles critically.  The "Possibly" pile was pathetically small.

"Get off that," she snatched the dress out from under Crookshanks, who meowed in protest.  Hermione groaned.  Ginger colored fur coated the black dress.  Sighing, she added it to the "Never To Be Caught Dead In By Draco Malfoy" heap.

Hermione got down on her hands and knees to look under the bed.  She snatched out a certain set of matching feminine garments in bright, red silk that Ginny had given her as a joke present (at least, she hoped it was a joke).  That _definitely_ went in the "Never To Be Caught Dead In By Draco Malfoy" pile.

Hermione shuddered at the thought.

Then she gasped.  How could she be so stupid?

Running to her closet, she thrust aside hanger after hanger, searching for one specific garment…

…there!

Rescuing the beloved garment from the deep, dark depths of her closet, she hugged it to her chest.  Stepping out into the light, she held it out to look at it.

Dress robes.  She was in the Wizarding world.  How stupid could she have been to think this would be like the dates she'd been on before, and therefore, had to dress like the dates she'd been on before?

Dress robes.  The solution to all her problems.

These were the robes she had worn for last year's graduation ceremony.  Also worn to Ginny's Sweet Sixteen party.  Also worn to Victor's award ceremony.  

Simply, these robes were good luck.

She wiggled into it, tying the laces in the back that always got tangled.  Turning to the mirror, she pursed her lips, studying her reflection.  The robes fit as well as they always had, the sleek silk smoothly outlining her body.  Not bad.  And with the new hair… _Could I actually be pretty?_ Hermione wondered.

Nah.

But she did look good, she admitted to herself.  She looked clean and polished.  Even Malfoy would have a hard time picking out something to make fun of…

Speaking of Malfoy, where was he?

It was 7:11.

A sickening thought made her slump onto her bed.  What if this whole thing had been one bad joke?  What if he intended to stand her up?  Leave her dressed in her stuffy, tight dress robes until she threw herself onto the floor and—

A knock sounded at the door.

Hermione nearly flew to open it, half praying it was Malfoy, half praying it wasn't.

It was.

Oh well, at least half of her prayer had been answered.

"Where have you been?" she nearly shrieked.

Draco looked as calm and cool as he always did.  Swinging his head down to look at his silver pocket watch, he shrugged. "That eager to go out with me?  You might want to work on hiding it a little better," he commented helpfully.

"Oh, shut up."

It was only now Hermione had relaxed enough from her frantic state to examine Sir Malfoy, Jr.  He was wearing a long black robe, probably made of some disgustingly expensive material.  The dark color was a contrast to his pale skin and fair hair.  Narrowing her eyes, Hermione realized something was wrong.  "Malfoy, your robe is buttoned wrong."

He blinked and looked down.  Sure enough, one of the buttons had missed its mate and was one up, creating a wrinkle that just screamed, "Draco Malfoy was too busy to button me correctly!"

Come to think of it, there were a few more things wrong with Malfoy's normal picture of perfection.  The part in his hair wasn't straight.  His hair was still wet, as if he'd recently had a shower, and- gasp- it was mussed, as if he'd run the whole way to her room.  And then there was the fact his left shoe was untied, and… he was carrying a bag from Mssr.  Montague's Menagerie.  

"Malfoy, what is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me?" he huffed indignantly.  "Nothing is wrong with me!"  He stepped into her room and examined himself in the mirror.  Hermione tried not to snicker at the look of distress on his face.  Whipping out his wand, he muttered a few spells (trust Draco Malfoy to use a spell instead of his fingers to simply rebutton a button) and was as good as new.

"So, Malfoy," Hermione interrupted his preening session, "what's in the bag?"

Malfoy looked down at the orange bag next to him.  "Oh, just something."

"I appreciate the thought, but I've already had my rabies vaccine," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Not for _you_, Granger," Malfoy rolled his eyes back, "for your _cat_."

My…cat?

Malfoy stepped over to where the cat was reclining on Hermione's desk and the two eyed each other for a minute.  "Hello," Malfoy finally said, and after another few seconds of glaring, Crookshanks actually bobbed his head at the boy.  "I brought you something," Malfoy continued the one-sided conversation, "Rather expensive, but I think you'll like it."

Trust Malfoy to spend money on his date's cat, but not his actual date.  Loser.

Out of the bag came a small, dark green (of course, what other color?) mattress.  "It's a pet bed," Malfoy explained, setting it next to the cat.  "I figured you'd like it more than lying on clothes."  The cat blinked at him.  "Or maybe not, but I'm sure your owner would appreciate it more."  He turned to look at Hermione, giving her a wink.

Hermione nearly staggered backwards.  Malfoy being nice?  And… winking at her?  Holy Moses, he hadn't seen those unfortunate red undergarments from Ginny, had he?  She snuck a furtive glance at her "Never To Be Caught in Dead by Draco Malfoy" pile.  Whew, they were hidden under a shirt. 

Poor Crookshanks had nearly the same reaction as his owner.  He backed up a few paces, came close to falling off the desk, but managed to save himself at the last minute.  He looked at Hermione, looked at Malfoy, then at the bed.  He sniffed it cautiously; then put one paw on it.  After deciding it wouldn't do something particularly nasty, like eat him, he padded his way in and curled up, purring.

"It even has a charm to keep him from shedding," Draco added, more to Hermione than the cat.

"That's nice," she said faintly, still trying to figure out the Puzzle That Was Draco Malfoy.  He makes fun of her, he sprains her ankle, he offers to take her out on a date, he buys her cat a bed?  

In fact, she was so busy mulling over the Slytherin enigma, she totally missed his digging into the bag and pulling out another smaller package, this one wrapped in brown paper.  That is, she missed it until he poked her in the side with it.

"Ow!" she responded automatically.

"I didn't poke you that hard, Granger," Malfoy rolled his eyes.  He continued to hold the brown object out.

"What's that?"

"You really think I'd buy your cat something and not you?"

Er… well…

"…Just take it, Granger."

So she took it.

"And now you unwrap it…"

"I know what to do with a gift, Malfoy," she snapped.  She moved to toss it on the bed, but he was too quick for her and grabbed her hand before she could let go.  

"That's not very nice," he said disapprovingly.  "You should at least open it before putting it away."

"I'd rather wait," Hermione snarled.

"Granger!"

"…Fine, be that way," she muttered sulkily, beginning to open his present.

"That's better."

Silence.  

"Granger, how long does it take you to open one present?"

"That's what my mum and dad always asked me," Hermione muttered, intent on getting the paper off without ripping it.  "I've always been an unwrapper.  My brother was a tearer."

"You mean a ripper?"

Hermione blinked at him.  "Tearer, ripper, same difference.  What are you?"

"I'm a ripper.  Get to the goods faster, you know."

"But what if it's the present from Aunt Mildred that you know is socks?" Hermione countered, still working.  "Then you want to take as much time as possible so you can formulate a somewhat realistic sounding exclamation."

"'What a bloody stupid gift' sounds perfectly realistic to me."

Hermione smacked him with her half-unwrapped rectangle.  "You know what I mean."

"Well, we never spent birthdays or any other holidays requiring presents with relatives," Malfoy shrugged.  "So I never encountered that particular problem."

"You never spent holidays with family?" Hermione gasped.

Malfoy shifted and changed the subject. "We're going to be late for dinner."

"It's not my fault you came late."

"It's not my fault a herd of turtles could pass a mile wide road before you finished unwrapping one gift," he retorted.

Hermione looked scandalized.  "Just because I choose to save paper and therefore save trees and therefore save our economy does _not_ mean a herd of turtles could be faster than me!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Malfoy sniggered and made an exaggerated look at his watch.

"Oh, fine!" she fumed and finally ripped the paper off.  Once it had fallen away, she gasped.  In her hands she gripped a dark red book with "Fairy Tales" embossed on the front.  She raised shocked eyes to meet Malfoy's.  "Where did you find this?" she whispered.

Shrug.  "It jumped into my pocket and screamed, 'buy me, Draco!'"

"Seriously, Draco, where did you find this?"

He froze for a moment.  "What?"

"Where did you find this?" she repeated, clutching the book.

"A wizard never tells his secrets," he said with a smirk.  "Now, are we ready to go?"

Hermione looked at the book and then reluctantly set it on the bed.  "Yes."

"Good!" he clapped his hands.  "Come on, Granger, and prepare to be amazed."

If only she had seen his smirk, perhaps she wouldn't have felt quite so at ease…

---

Author's Notes: *does a dance* look at me, 101 reviews!  Booyah!  Whew, and talk about taking my sweet time in updating.  I'm sorry this took so long, but between two shows performing three consecutive weekends and a nine page history paper and work and school, I've been uber busy.  But here it is!  I know I said the date would be this chapter, but the way I want to write The Date is basically make it three parts that string together seamlessly, so they could be one chapter.  So why didn't I do it in one chapter?  Well, see how long this chapter is?  Imagine how long one chapter three times this size would be.  *nods*  I know what I'm talking about.  Anyway, enjoy this chapter and be looking for the second part of the date by the second week of May!

Shoutouts:

Rinaula- I almost made you cry from laughing so hard? That's great!  Wow, I definitely feel cool now.

White Crow- the thing with online translators is… well, I've heard horror stories how it totally screws up the grammar and stuff.  And if someone French comes and reads this, I don't want them to be all horrified at how I've butchered their language…

Tokyobabe2040- *laughs* funny you mention my portrayal of Draco.  I really think if JKR was to see this, she'd throw a hissy fit.  I've made him a lot more comical than I know he really is, but the Draco in the series just wouldn't do for a humor fic (if I may be so bold as to file this story in the humor category).  But thanks for the review and for all your ideas!  I might just use one or two of them J

Blue-chick- or should I say, IceSugarHigh?  *laughs*  I love pennames.  It's so much fun to come up with new ones.  *cackles* your ideas amuse me greatly.  The funny part is, I think our minds work alike, because a lot of what you've said, I was already playing with.  You know… I think what I might do is write a one-shot featuring all the great ideas you've given me for this date.  At least, using the ones I'm not already using… *grin*

EvErYtHiNg4NoThInG- wow, your name is hard to type with all those capitals.  Thank you for the review!  I'm still deciding on the book, but romance is definitely in the running.  And you liked my song? *beams*  you get a cookie! *hands you one filled with lots of chocolate chips*

ThreeEaredBunny- *blinks slowly* your name is based on a chicken…?  O…kay… anyway, moving on!  *claps hands*  I just wanted to say, I really look forward to getting your reviews.  You're always so encouraging and positive.  Thank you!  And… no, he didn't do the crane thing in the trailer, but I saw it and was like… ooh!  I think I'll use that!

SweetCheeksDracoLuver- *laughs* my rhymes doth suck, I know.  I can do better, really!  But I won't, just because I don't want to injure any poet's ears.  But using bad poetry as a torture device is a pretty cool idea… *thinks and grins* hmm…

Persia- I certainly try to expose the lighter side of the two.  I love this pairing because there are so many emotions you can dig into.  What I'm writing here is just one tiny slice of a really big pie.  …now that I'm hungry, I'll leave.  *grin*  thanks for the review!

Persia- aww, thank you!  Yeah, I would've prolly put off the shower, too… but this is Hermione's mortal enemy, so I'm guessing she would've wanted to run as fast as she could.

Crazed Yellow Fangirl- er… thank you?  Not quite sure how to take that, but I hope this chapter is funnier than the last.

Deadburningflame- nice name, man.  Thanks for the review!

Theblackswan- ditto what I said above!  Thank you!

Elvin-warrior-princess- hanging no more!  But perhaps this left you hanging too…?  Er, sorry about that.

In Dreams- ooh, another awesome name!  Wow, I feel special having so many cool named people review me.  Well, this chapter is definitely longer.  I can't promise others will continue in this vein, however, cause I just kinda spit out whatever comes to me and post it.

Me- nope, sorry, can't tell you who the Head Boy is.  Actually, some of my original readers might know, because before I started changing my summary around, it actually said the Head Boy was.  Just wait and find out!

Shadow*whisper- no, that last chapter was just a figment of your imagination- I really didn't update.  *grin*  just kidding.  I like your little dance! Can you teach me how?

Elven at Heart- ooh!  Another elf!  Wow, I'm getting a lot of elves to review me, too! How spiffy.  Thank you so much for the review!

Whew, that took a long time.  Till next time! -TM


	15. The Middle of a Date

There were some things Hermione Granger never did. She never forgot to brush her teeth after a meal, she never returned a book late to the library, and she never got detention. And she never was quiet for more than ten minutes when not reading or studying… until now. In fact, had Harry and Ron been there, Hermione was sure they'd be glued to a stopwatch counting each second her mouth stayed shut. Heck, the whole Gryffindor House (plus Slytherin and perhaps some of Ravenclaw) would be making bets as to how long the know-it-all would stay silent. So far, her quiet time had spanned the walk from her room to the hotel's lobby, the hotel to the restaurant, and from the restaurant's front door to their table.

And Malfoy hadn't said a word.

Hermione wasn't sure if that was good or bad, actually. But he had maintained his silence from her door to restaurant (called Le Café Riches- Hermione's mind had only a second to ponder the translation before Malfoy ushered her in). It was downright scary.

And now, they sat staring at each other across a romantic, candle-lit table.

"So," Malfoy said, looking not the least bit uncomfortable. "How are you?"

Hermione gawked at him.

"This is one of my favorite dining experiences," he continued as if she hadn't said anything (which she hadn't, so it was all good).

_Dining experiences? Only Malfoy._

He continued rambling, but Hermione zoned out and began studying her surroundings. Wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes were scattered around various tables in the large room. They all had one thing in common: they were all obviously rich. Hermione patted her hair self-conciously before continuing to look around. The din of hundreds of guests chattering, the expensive silverware scraping against china dishes, and a small string quartet met her ears. Chandeliers hung suspended by magic from the arched ceiling, thick velvet curtains draped around tall glass windows, and the faint smell of roses and lilacs wafted through the air every now and then.

_Not a bad place_, Hermione admitted, returning her gaze to her date.

Her date? Good Heavens, that made it sound like she had accepted the fact. No, she was definitely still fighting it. No sirree, she wasn't going down that easily. No chance, no way. Not happening. Nope. Definitely not. Hermione Granger, fighter until the end. Yup.

"-and we've been coming here ever since," Malfoy finished. "They have a table reserved especially for us."

"Isn't that great," Hermione muttered. "Do the napkins have your crest embroidered on them as well?"

"Better than the library engraving a plaque for your special little table," he smirked.

"At least it's down to earth there," she retorted, sending a scathing glance at the placemat, which contained seven forks, three spoons, four knives, and three crystal goblets.

"Right, and I bet the librarian has even sewed you cushions for your own chair," Malfoy snorted. "Real down to earth."

"Drop dead, Malfoy," Hermione glared.

"Monsieur, Mademoiselle, est-ce que je peux prendre vos ordres?" A voice interrupted the heated discussion.

"Ah, Jacques, comment bon pour vous voir!" Malfoy responded.

"Monsieur Malfoy! Quel plaisir!" The waiter practically beamed. "Queest-ce que je peux faire pour vous ce soir?"

"L'eau juste pour maintenant," Malfoy said with a nod, and the waiter scurried away. Malfoy took out his napkin and began unfolding it as Hermione stared at him.

"Malfoy," she started slowly, words forming slowly in her brain. "Were you just speaking French to that guy?"

He looked up, surprised from his linen duties. "Why, yes, Granger, I was. Some of us do know more than one language."

Hermione ignored that little barb and pressed onwards. "And _why_ were you speaking French to that man?"

"Because Jacques speaks it," he responded patiently.

Hermione gritted her teeth, "Does Jacques speak English?"

"No, he came straight from France to London to work here."

_No. Freaking. Way._

"Malfoy," she said surprisingly calmly for the amount of rage bottled up inside of her, "does anyone here speak English?"

"No, Granger. This is a French restaurant," he said absently, smoothing his napkin in his lap.

"Malfoy," Hermione repeated, again, surprisingly devoid of emotion, "did you realize I don't speak French?"

He finally made eye contact, feigning surprise. "Why, no! I thought you knew everything!"

Hermione just stared at him. _This isn't happening._ On a whim, she grabbed her napkin and looked at the tag. French. She looked at the sign listing the specials. French. She grabbed the menu and opened it. French, French, French.

"Malfoy, please tell me this was just a misunderstanding and you really didn't mean to strand me in a restaurant, hungry enough that my stomach is eating itself, without knowing the language in which to order food."

The look on his face said it all.

"Fine!" she yelled, standing up and slamming her hand on the table.

All patrons' heads swiveled to look at her. The quartet stopped playing. Jacques, from the far side of the room, began hurrying over.

"You," Hermione said, voice dripping with loathing, "You absolute moron. You filthy pig, you disgusting piece of carrion, you worthless crapball of… of… CHUM!"

"Chum?" she heard someone whisper in confusion.

"I don't know why I agreed to come with you on this stupid date," she fumed. "I thought perhaps we could have a nice evening, even though we are mortal enemies. Well, I guess I was wrong. You aren't capable of being nice, are you? No, that must be against the code of all that is Malfoy! I wish I had never ran into you in Diagon Alley, you slimy git. Draco Malfoy-" she spoke those two words with every ounce of disgust and detestation she possessed, "-I hope you rot in hell."

With that, she threw her napkin at him and stormed out of the dining hall.

Everyone in the room stared at him. "Well, go after her!" an old lady whispered excitedly, fluttering her hands.

With an inward sigh and an outward smile, Draco flipped a few Galleons onto the table, bowed to the audience, and ran out of the room to a smattering of applause.

---

Wow, look who returned from the grave! Yes, I have returned! You guys rock my socks off for being so sweet in continuing to review this story even after it had been months past the chapter due date. I'm really sorry it took so long… but thanks for sticking with me. There's no way I could list all the people that reviewed me during my two month vacation, but please believe me when I say a heart-felt thanks goes out to each one of you!

Love,

trinitymarquise


	16. The End of a Date: Or Is It?

_Perhaps that was overdoing it just a little,_ Malfoy pondered as he jogged out of Les Café Riches. He hadn't thought Hermione would be so uptight over a joke. Wasn't that what their relationship was based off of anyway? Mutual hatred and attempts to make the other miserable?

He kept his eyes trained on the woman several streets ahead of him as he followed her, dodging the clumps of people that occasionally floated down the street. _Man, she walks fast_, he grumbled to himself, and he picked up the pace a little to keep up with her.

Draco's stomach grumbled at him for leaving a delicious meal behind. _Second time this week_, it reminded him. _Normally I'm your priority, but now you meet some _girl_ and suddenly I'm no longer first in your life…_

_Not a girl _like that, his mind argued.

_That's what you think_, his stomach responded with a snarky gurgle of hunger.

Draco rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the battle waging inside. Granger was simply a girl to amuse him, one he'd be glad to be rid of once they reached Hogwarts and he could socialize with other equally aristocratic and superior wizards. His eyes scanned the crowds for said figure in red. His heart skipped a beat when he didn't see her. He cursed himself for letting his stomach get the better of things and broke into an outright run.

There! There she was! _Slow down! _His mind screeched at him as he tried to stop, but his legs rebelled, and he just kept going.

"Oomph!"

"Bloody-"

"My dress!"

"-second item of clothing ruined this week-"

"-Malfoy?!"

"Wotcher, Granger," he said cheekily, smirking down at her.

"Didn't I just tell you to rot in hell?" she roared up at him.

"Yes, you did," he admitted, "but I figured you didn't mean it. With me being the only person to keep you sane for the next five days, I mean."

"I most certainly did mean it!" she screeched in a most annoying fashion. Draco was reminded of a certain enchanted planner and grimaced. "And if you'd kindly get off me, I would sincerely appreciate it!"

"Oh, right," he said, doing that.

"You have ruined everything of what was supposed to be a happy week," she continued, glaring swords, knives, and daggers at him. "You sleep in my room, you make fun of me, you hurt my ankle, you steal my wand, and you rip my favorite dress robes!"

"I couldn't escape," Draco pointed out. "And believe me, I would've rather slept on the roof than in your bed. Might I add that you also make fun of me, I carried you up the stairs so you wouldn't have to walk, I gave your wand back, bought your pet a bed and you a book, and took you out to dinner."

"Oh, and that's supposed to just make up for everything?" Hermione said furiously, standing. Her poor torn dress robes flopped open, revealing quite a bit of leg. Draco politely averted his eyes after gawking for a second.

"Hey, wait up!" he called, starting after the limping witch. During those five seconds he looked away, Granger had begun walking away from him.

I try to be nice, and look what happens.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" she yelled back at him.

"Where are you going, Granger?" he ignored her request for him to leave her alone.

"None of your beeswax!"

Rollage of eyes. "Granger, just cooperate for once in your life."

"I don't want to!" she retorted, sounding like a five year old in a tantrum.

Sigh. "You can be quite the little brat, you know."

"Thanks a lot, Malfoy," she responded, sarcasm apparent. "That's the way to get on a person's good side."

"I'm not trying to-" he started, but she had entered a building and slammed the door, apparently trying to send the message, "Go away!"

She did a very good job of it.

She made it very clear that she wanted nothing more than for Malfoy to drop dead outside her door.

He looked up and realized the building she had entered was The Cat's Paw, so most likely, she was going to bed and wouldn't be come back outside until tomorrow morning.

So, the next reasonable move would be for him to retire to his hotel and return the next morning.

Instead, he sat on a bench below a street lamp.

"I suppose I shouldn't have tricked her like that," he told the fireflies buzzing around. "What if she had really been looking forward to going out with me? I mean, what girl wouldn't be?"

He paused a moment to preen.

"So, I suppose I'll need to buy her something to make up for it…" he pondered, tapping his fingers on the back of the bench. "Too bad I already used the book option. And the cat card. Perhaps a new—"

Suddenly, a flurry of brown curls shot past him. Pure reflexes (it resembled a fuzzy snitch, in an odd way) made his arm shoot out and grab the person passing.

"Let go of my arm, Malfoy!" Granger thundered.

"Oh, it's you." He blinked at her.

"Who else would it be?" she bellowed.

"Well, it could—Granger, where are you going?" Draco gawped at her. "And… what are you wearing?"

Granger _blushed_.

Gone were the very pretty (but fully modest) dress robes. In their place were a short black skirt, a red tank top, and a pair of black heels. Draco had seen many other women in smaller amounts of fabric, but there was something about seeing Bookworm Granger in something a little more daring…

"Wow," he breathed.

"What?" Granger blinked at him.

Draco realized he had breathed out loud. Oops.

"Where are you going?" he repeated.

"Abso-bloody-lutely none of your business," she snapped.

"But you owe me a date," he tried.

"I owe you nothing," she spat, pointedly looking at his hand, which was still clamped on her arm.

Draco followed her eyes, then slowly dragged his gaze up to her eyes. To his delight, she turned a red that matched her shirt nicely. "Well, I owe you a date. Let me make it up to you."

"Let go of my arm, and I'll think about it."

"Will you run away if I do?" he asked, not breaking eye contact.

"Most likely," she muttered.

"I'll just catch you again," he offered.

"Fine," she sighed.

Draco let go of her arm and she immediately took it back, hugging it to her body.

"I didn't hurt you," he said, exasperated.

"That's what you think," she retorted.

Pause.

With a sigh, Granger started walking away. "Where are you going?" Draco asked her.

"To get food."

Draco's stomach perked up at the mention of food. "Where?"

"Muggle London."

Apparently she had tired of giving him cute answers.

"Can I come?"

Another sigh. "If you must."

Definitely worn down her defenses, Draco thought to himself. 

Too bad that as he stood and followed her, he couldn't quite decide whether that was a good thing or not.

---

Author's Notes: Wheeee! I'm back! And in record time, too, I might add. Though, um, anything after last chapter's sabbatical would seem in record time. Hmm. Anyway, here's hoping this chapter meets your expectations and desires for more. Don't know when I'll be updating again, because school is starting in one week (choke! Gasp!) but I'll try to keep it around one chapter every two weeks or so (but we all know how sucky I am at updating regularly). Thanks to everyone who reads my crappy knockoff of JKR's masterpiece. For my shoutouts, I've split it into newbies and oldies (i.e., people that have reviewed before and those that are new). If I screwed up and stuck you in the wrong category, my apologies. If I missed you, my apologies. If you read this fic, my apologies. But, um, just lemme know and I'll do what I can to fix it. Wotcher!

Shoutouts:

To my newbies:

Insidiae- the tears worked! Here's another chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews!

Paprika90- indeed I am alive! does the alive dance glad you thought the end justified the means.

Love it!- wow, I love your name!

Poetic-Mind- Aww, glad to know you were worried about me. Don't worry, had I really croaked, I would've invited you to my funeral.

Insane and Crazy- yeah, I wouldn't have gone either. Well, perhaps if I had been really bored, I would have, but… well, I woulda have to have been really bored.

Irelandkicks-ass03- grins glad you thought it was funny. That's what I was aiming for.

Mistress-eos14- here's the update! Thanks!

In Dreams- definitely back to stay. Never really left! Okay, I kinda did, but… um, yeah. Yeah, French… it seems to be an aristocratic language… something Draco dear would know… I can't quite picture him speaking Spanish, can you?

ILUVRONWEASLEY- wow, what are you doing reading a DM/HG fic? Just kidding. Thank you for the three review in a row J made my night!

IceSugarHigh- wow, interesting name. I think I've gotten high off of water before… no, the best thing to get high off of is the new car smell… know what I'm talking about? Just riding in a new car makes me all happy… um, anyway, thank you for the review! (and I don't like French food much, either. I prefer Italian.)

Diamond girl- sings diamonds are a girl's best friend… er, anyway, thanks for the review!

Rachel- definitely am continuing to write! I have conquered my writer's block!

Muggle Lover- awww!! Thank you! I wouldn't call this exceptional by any means, but I'm glad you (and others) seem to enjoy it.

Karana Belle- hehe, go to a French/English translator and copy paste what I said into it. It's nothing special, I promise. Thanks for reviewing!

For the love of music- wow, great name. I'm glad I updated to! Thank you!

Shimmering evil- wow, another cool name. 45 minutes to read all of it… hmm… that's pretty good time! We all know it took way more than that to write the stupid story… geeez…

Dodobird- whew, glad you like it. Thank God it's not all mush… I think I'd kill myself if it was.

Blackonyx- wow, another cool name! They're everywhere! Thanks for the review!

To my crew:

Dragonspirit7037- Hmm, those are odd numbers. What do they mean? To answer your question, chum is shark bait. Usually ground up bits of fish that are sprinkled over the ocean. Your review amused me so much!

Dracos-kiki- haha, a funeral email? Never heard of those before… but I'm glad to be forgiven!

Monikkadaluver- whoa, a new name!! Thanks for telling me who you really were… I would never have guessed!

ThreeEaredBunny- man, your reviews seriously raise my ego another notch. Keep them coming! J but seriously, you're encouraging and enthusiastic… I love you, man!

Rinaula- well, there wasn't really an audience, I was just comparing it to actors with an audience… but yeah, they all speak French, since it was at a French restaurant.

White Crow- hey, it's you! How's it going? Glad to know my French wasn't horrible… thank God for online translators!

Kole17- aw, it's okay. I was slacking in the updating department too. J

And finally…

Kate- AH! You remember me! hug thank you for the review… and I made it under the month deadline… go me! Thanks so much for sticking with me. Love ya!


	17. Muggle London, McDonalds, Malfoys, and o...

"Muggle London, eh?" Malfoy said cheerfully as he fell into step with Hermione. "Never been there. I've heard it's a death trap."

Hermione glared at him.

"Wrong thing to say, I apologize," he backtracked hastily. "I meant to say, I hear it's charming. Especially in the spring time. When all the… things are blooming." He waved a hand around, in an attempt to collect the missing vocabulary words. "So, why are you so dressed up? Going somewhere special?"

"They were my only clean clothes." _That I could find, since Tornado Hermione swept through my room when I was trying to look nice for _you. This whole thing infuriated her, really. _He_ infuriated her. The way he spoke, the things he did, the way he looked at her… and now he was joining her for her hunt for decent- or at least, not French- food. Hermione craved a hamburger and fries covered in ketchup with a super sized Coke. She was positive the sight would revolt the platinum haired git and (hoped) he would run away, screaming like a girl.

Not that that was an insult. She knew several girls that screamed very respectably.

But anyway, Malfoy continued to follow her and continued to chat about nothing until Hermione stepped into a dimly lit alley and stood before a brick wall.

"Granger?" he said tentatively. "Are you alright?"

"Never been better," she replied briskly, pulling out her wand to tap a brick.

"Are you… sure?"

But then the wall began to move, and Malfoy found himself staring into a small courtyard behind what looked like a pub. Hermione stepped through the space and then turned to look at him, an impatient look on her face. She stood beneath a sign with "The Leaky Cauldron" painted on it, arms crossed, waiting for him to join her. "If you're planning on staying there, be my guest, but if you're coming, then hurry, as this wall doesn't like staying open for long."

"Didn't know you cared," Malfoy said with a cheeky grin and stepped through.

"I don't," Hermione assured him. "But my conscience wouldn't appreciate having your being smushed between a brick wall on it."

"Touched," Malfoy muttered.

Hermione wove her way through tables and chairs, dodging patrons and waiters of the odd sort of tavern, nodding to certain individuals as she made her way through. Her destination: the door. But just before she got there, she stopped. Malfoy almost ran into her, but managed at the last minute to avoid hitting her. She was staring at him, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

"Well, Malfoy, I'm afraid our time has come to an end."

_Yes!_

"You see, Muggles don't wear robes."

_And you are…_

"So unless you have something under that robe…"

_Please don't. I mean, do! I mean… oh, bugger._

"…you aren't going to be coming with me."

"Oh," was all Malfoy said.

_Yes! Yes! You did it! He's going to be gone forever! Or, at least tonight, which is just as good. Well, maybe not quite, but almost—_

"Will this work?" he asked, unbuttoning his robe and taking the garment off.

_MY VIRGIN EYES! _Hermione slammed her eyes shut.

"Granger, open your eyes, I'm not naked."

The mere thought of a naked Malfoy made her promise herself that she wasn't opening her eyes until next Christmas.

"Granger," the voice had grown impatient.

Hermione allowed one eyelid to drift north about the width of a centimeter, eye trained upwards so if he wasn't telling the truth, she wouldn't see anything too scarring. Her eye, however, was not met with smooth, pale skin (not that she wanted to see it- bad mind!), so she opened it all the way and allowed its partner to open as well.

Warm? She had called him _warm_? Of course, that was referring to temperature, not degrees of physical attractiveness, but… well, Hermione forgot that she was far superior to the teenyboppers that did rate guys on a scale on looks alone. Hot. The boy/man (hard to call him a man since she'd practically grown up with him; hard to call him a boy when he looked _like that_) standing in front of her was _hot_.

He was wearing the black shirt she had bought for Ron. But Ron must be bigger than Malfoy, because what would've been a loose-fitting t-shirt on the Weasley was a wee bit tighter on Malfoy (try a rash guard). The shirt did nothing to hide the muscles that had developed from being on a Quidditch team for six years. He was also wearing the pair of black cargo pants she'd bought for Harry, which fit him perfectly. A silver necklace with a serpent on it hung around his neck and a silver ring adorned his finger.

Hermione could barely breathe.

Gone where the days of Malfoy looking more like an elf than a human. Now, he fully resembled a homo sapiens, with clear eyes and a ripped body and soft, shiny hair—since when did Hermione notice Malfoy's _hair_?! What was wrong with her?

"Will this work?" he repeated, thankfully unaware of the mental stress he was putting poor Hermione through.

"They'll think you're Goth," she managed, "but I think you'll be okay."

She promptly whirled around and marched out the door, walking up to a lamppost and staring up at it. She had to stare at something. Anything other than Malfoy and his gorgeous body. Concentrating hard, she ran her hand down the lamppost's side, feeling for the key-shaped lump on the side…

"Have you lost your marbles?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione smirked to herself. _No, but it's certainly fun to make you think I have._ "This," she announced to Malfoy, after finding the mark, "is our way into Muggle London."

"A lamppost," Malfoy said, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," was all Hermione said. "Watch carefully, then follow after me." She put her left hand on the pole and ran around it in a counterclockwise manner.

"Granger, is this your version of a pole dance?" Malfoy snickered, watching her spin around the pole.

"Ha ha ha!" she yelled back. Then she disappeared.

Now in the Muggle world, Hermione chewed on her lip, wondering how long it would take Malfoy to shift worlds. She was _hungry_, dangit. Too hungry to wait too long for the blonde ferret who insisted on joining her for food. She looked at her watch. _I'll give him ten seconds. Ten… nine… eight…_

Thump.

Hermione looked down at the boy on the sidewalk.

"You spun too hard," she said, looking down at him. "It's easy to get out of control. I do it all the time."

"So this is Muggle London…" was all Malfoy said, standing and wiping the dirt off his clothes. "Where are we going to eat?"

"No where expensive," she replied, "as I'm the only one that has any money."

Malfoy looked shocked that his money- _for once in his life_, Hermione thought with no small amount of satisfaction- would do him no good. "What do you mean?"

"British Muggles run on a different sort of money system," Hermione explained, her voice taking an authoritative ring, similar to McGonagall or Snape. "We have the British Pound Sterling," she showed him a bill, "also known as a quid."

"Wow," he blinked at the little piece of paper, "that's it?"

"That's it," she said. "We also have coins," she dug into her pocket and came up with an assortment of coins, "called pence. And I only have about six quid, ten pence left, so we better find some place cheap."

The two meandered down the street in silence until Hermione gasped. "Yes," she breathed, eyes trained on a building with a large golden "M" on the roof.

"What's that?" he asked, his gaze bouncing from Hermione's raptured state to the golden "M".

"_That_," Hermione spoke with reverence, "is McDonald's."

"McDonald's?"

"Dinner."

"Oh."

Without another word, Hermione nearly bounded towards the door. _Yes! Hamburgers!_

But Draco took three long strides, passed her up, and opened the door for her.

"Um… er… thanks," Hermione said, slightly flustered at the sudden show of manners.

"Any time," Malfoy said gallantly, following after her.

The smells of burgers frying and the sound of grease cracking and lots of fast-talking employees must've been a shock to Malfoy, having never been in the Muggle world, let alone a McDonald's during a dinner rush, but he didn't bat an eye. "Hold on for the ride," Hermione told him with just a trace of smugness. _Now you're in _my_ world, buster._

"Can I take your order?" A red headed boy no more than fifteen asked Hermione.

"One double cheeseburger meal, one eight-pack nuggets meal, and… oh, let me have an Oreo McFlurry, too."

"One double cheeseburger meal, one eight-pack nuggets meal, and one Oreo McFlurry. Your number is 242. Would that be for here or to go?"

"For here."

The boy totaled her order and handed her the two cups for soda. After handing over her precious pounds and receiving change, Hermione moved to the drink machine and began filling them with Coke.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked from behind her.

"Getting drinks, what does it look like?"

"I don't know," he responded truthfully. "We can really drink that stuff?" Malfoy pointed to the dark liquid with bubbles sporadically rising to the top. "Looks like something out of Snape's cauldron."

"Only this won't make you turn green," Hermione shrugged.

"242!" someone yelled.

"That's us!" Hermione said, handing the drinks to Malfoy. "Take these and go find a table to sit at. I'll be there in a minute."

"But-" But Hermione had already abandoned him in search of their order. Grabbing the tray loaded with food, she turned around to search for the blonde boy in all black. Shouldn't be that hard to spot… _Ah, there_. Hiding behind the large potted plant. Rolling her eyes, she made her way over there. "If you're trying to blend in with your surroundings, you fail."

"I was just-"

"Shut up. French fry?"

* * *

"I will never eat that food again," Malfoy said as they exited McDonald's, looking slightly nauseous. 

"Well, we will never eat together again, so I don't think you'll have to worry about it, unless you get some other Muggle friend to take you out for fast food."

Malfoy looked at her.

"Not that I'm your friend!" Hermione clarified, just in case he was wondering.

"Right," he said with a nod. "Not friends."

They walked in silence, arriving at the lamppost.

"Purebreds first," she snickered, beckoning to him.

"Only if you insist," he smirked, grabbing on to the pole and rapidly swinging around it. After he had disappeared from sight, Hermione placed her left hand on the pole but paused before spinning around. _What in the world happened tonight? Did we… he couldn't have actually… and there's no way I would ever… Oh, just stop thinking and spin around the pole, please?_

Hermione obeyed herself. The dizzy feeling settled in as she spun faster and faster until—

Bump.

"Careful, Granger," Malfoy said, but his voice was devoid of the majority of disgust it normally held. "You spin too fast, you get out of control," he mimicked her.

"Shut up."

"Well, as I'm currently supporting you, I think I have the right to at least tell you not to do it again."

"Didn't ask you to catch my fall," she retorted. "Please remove your hands."

"Gladly."

Without asking permission, Malfoy followed her back to The Cat's Paw.

"Please tell me you're not planning on spending the night again," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"But I was looking forward to it," he replied, an evil glint in his eyes.

Said evil glint properly scared Hermione. _Must get inside before he does something crazy. _"Can I leave now?" she asked him, only half joking. _Definitely time to hit the sack…_

"Only if you promise to work with me on that Potions essay tomorrow."

_Merlin. Is he joking, half joking, or… not?_

"Um… I…," she said, rushing to the door. "Good night!"

* * *

Author's notes: Woohoo! Look at me go! Two chapters in one week! Aren't you proud of me? Some notes about this chapter… well, I've never been to London, but I quizzed my brother on the money system in England and I –think- I got it right. If not, please let me know. Second, the Muggle London to Wizarding London (is there a Wizarding London?) is probably not right. I scoured the HP Lexicon, and this was the best I could do. Hopefully this works with the way JKR intended it… if not… I'm sorry!  
This is your back-to-school present from me, as I sadly return to the masses Monday… think of me while I'm drudging away at chemistry and Spanish… anyway, this chapter practically wrote itself. I'm not even quite sure I like what happened, but it happened so fast… here's a snippet of conversation between me, myself, and I while writing this chapter: 

Me: Um, wait, isn't this a little OOC?  
Myself: Your whole fic is OOC.  
I: This is where the story needs to go.  
Me: But… would Draco really be so nice to her?  
Myself: Why wouldn't he be?  
I: I think he'll realize that he was way too mushy tonight and fix it the next time he sees her.  
Me: But…  
Myself and I: Shut up and post the darn chapter.  
Me: Okay.

So, let me know what you guys think. I've been pacing myself through this whole fic and I think the need for Hermione and Draco to finally act civil towards each other finally just… burst out. Let me know if it feels too… rushed, or whatever, or if you thought it was cool, or way overdue. Also, I'd like to ask your opinions on Hermione's character. Is she being, as one reviewer stated, a bitch? Let me know what you think. Thanks to everyone that read and/or reviewed!

Shoutouts:

To my newbies:  
i- ::blushes:: wow, thanks. I don't get told I'm awesome that often… thanks so much for the kind words!  
Ihatestupidwriters- hm, I took your review into serious consideration. But after thinking about it, I pretty much kept Hermione at the same emotional level as before. Hermione is an uptight character, and to be plagued by her enemy… well, I think she would react more or less in the way I described. But thank you for reviewing!  
Dazedpanda- ::laughs:: sorry, not a club. I know I kinda raised expectations with that clothing bit, but originally, I had wanted her to go clubbing… but in the end, I figured it just wouldn't work. Sorry!  
Missme- ooh, spiffy! I love it when I match someone cool… hehe…  
Hermione- thank you for the compliment! I don't think I'm a Stephen King by any means, but I do enjoy writing…  
Jewelwhisperer- ooh, spiffy name! My name is jewel, so I definitely dig your pen name. Wow… I made someone high… ::laughs::  
Xxkayleighxx- aww, thank you so much! Here's more!  
Draco's all mine- yay! Thanks for adding me to your favorites list… that makes me happy!  
AclownNeverDies- clowns scare me. inspects you you're not one, are you? shudders something about the mask and makeup… you never know who could be behind it.. but thank you for reviewing!  
Biggest fan of yours- wow, that name definitely boosts the ego! ::grins:: Thanks for reviewing!  
Elle- thank you so much! Your review really made me smile- I feel so special when someone hard to impressed gets impressed by something I wrote… thanks!

To my crew:

Paprika90- hmm, you know, I don't think he would've been. Since he's very anti-muggle, I figure he would never have gone there. Who knows if he'll ever return ::laughs::  
Monikkadaluver- yah, it was short, but this one was definitely longer… three pages in Word… woohoo!  
ThreeEaredBunny- ::laughs:: I feel like we need to have a hug or something… all this love going around… hmm, grammar is a big pet peeve with me… I definitely tell people off for it when reviewing… but anyway, thank you so much for consistently reviewing! You rock!  
Rinaula- hehe, yup, he does… but he's trying hard not to show it… ::shrug:: boys, what can I say…  
IceSugarHigh- Agggh! I'm sorry! You –are- blue-chick… geez, I'm so stupid… but after that two month break, I'd forgotten pretty much everyone that reviewed me. It wasn't personal, I promise. ::sends Draco over with cookies to make up for it::  
Elven at Heart- Ooh, vacation? Where'd you go? –And more importantly, why didn't you bring me? ::laughs:: glad you're enjoying it!  
Karana Belle- well, you found out what happened :) Yeah, Draco and Hermione are cute… ::laughs:: I'm sure JKR would kill me if she heard me say that, though.  
Insidiae- ::laughs:: You and blackonyx can have a little chat. Meanwhile, I'll just keep plugging away… I think I actually have gotten back into the swing of things! Yay! Course, watch, now I've jinxed myself…  
ILUVRONWEASLEY- Hmm, that's really interesting that you love Ron, yet only read DM/HG… I'm sure there's a deep psychological meaning in this… perhaps you love him so much you don't want to risk reading a fic where the author ruined him…? ::laughs:: originally, I had toyed with the idea of sending her clubbing. But yeah, I figured she'd be so hungry that she wouldn't want to go have a party… she'd rather munch… thanks for the review!  
Shimmering Evil- yes… puppy love… ah, what fun! Heh. ::shoots puppy love with a gun:: er… ::hides gun behind back:: actually, I'm definitely saving the kissing for… well, a long, long time. If this was at all plausible, they wouldn't kiss until… well, a long time. Heck, it's the 18th chapter and they're barely even friends!  
Poetic-Mind- woohoo! You dance! laughs don't hurt yourself… yeah, so they hit Muggle London and returned alive… yay!  
  
And of course…

Kate- woohoo! I still have my number one reviewer :) thanks for the compliments and everything. You're the best!


	18. Waking Up Is Hard to Do

Thank you to the people that have reviewed me, telling me to get my butt up and moving again- I'm dedicating this chapter to you.

"Wake up, wake up, it's a neato day! The sun is shining, it's time to play!"

Hermione groaned and pulled an extra pillow over her face. "Whose brilliant idea was it for a talking planner?" she mumbled into the pillow, trying to remember how to get the stupid thing to shut up. "Would a memory spell affect an inanimate object?"

"Wake up, wake up, it's a neato day! The sun is shining, it's time to play!"

Her hand groped around on the bedside table for her wand. Instead of her fingers finding the smooth piece of wood that had become almost permanently attached to her hand over the past six years, her hand landed on something covered in paper and rather squashy. Head still buried, her hand continued patting the object, trying to figure out what in the world had appeared overnight on her bedside table, until…

"Ow!" Hermione shrieked.

A few things happened in rapid succession that looked like it came straight from a Baz Lurhmann film. One, Hermione screamed again and tried to sit up in bed. When she sat up, however, her head hit the headboard of the bed, ending her attempt at getting the pillows off her face. Two, since her hand was currently flailing around in pain, it began knocking things right and left off the furniture, managing to injure her hand at least four more times. Oh well, at least it shut the planner up. Three, Crookshanks, who decided he didn't appreciate the early morning commotion, began hissing from wherever he rested (Hermione assumed it was in that hoity toity cat bed Malfoy bought him), which caused some odd noises to come outside the room's window.

Once the pounding in her head stopped and the throbbing in her hand slowed down, Hermione used her good hand to pull the mountain of pillows off her face and look around at the disaster area. Clothes were still piled haphazardly over chairs and on the floor. Crookshanks was standing in pre-pounce mode, eying the window, where an owl fluttered outside the window. Her bedside table was now void of anything that had previously occupied space there, but the floor surrounding the table was decorated with books, dishes, a wand, and an odd, triangular-shaped paper bundle. Hermione could feel a bump on her head beginning to rise thanks to the headboard of her bed. Gingerly bringing her damaged hand into view, she saw blood dripping from several parts of her palm and a few fingers.

What a fantastic start to a new day. Where to begin?

Now mostly awake (_As compared to mostly dead_, Hermione thought, she swung her feet over the side of the bed (making sure her bare toes missed the cracked dishes) and bent down to reach for her wand. "Reparo," she croaked, voice scratchy from lack of use. The dishes mended themselves, and Hermione floated the bowl and plate up off the floor. Squinting at the books, she shoved them aside with her foot. Then her somewhat bleary eyes focused on the object that had attacked her poor hand. She started to reach for it, then thought better, levitating it up so she could get a good look at this horrible object.

Hermione gasped.

A bundle of lush, red roses were floating roughly a foot away from her face. Hermione counted. A dozen red roses, complete with thorns. So that's what had hurt her hand. Reaching out to take them, Hermione stared at them, and then buried her entire face in the bouquet. Roses. As much as she hated to admit it, she was a sucker for roses. Lifting her face from the blossoms, she inspected the bundle for a card. Frowning, she shook the roses to try and shake the card out of the bouquet. No success. Whoever had sent her this gorgeous bunch of roses decided to remain anonymous. Hermione shrugged. She'd find out eventually—she had her ways.

Still holding onto her flowers, the brunette stepped over the mounds of clothes and turned her attention to the window outside. The poor owl was still positioned outside her window, albeit several feet back. The bird was eyeing Crookshanks warily, while the feline continued emitting low, hissing noises at the owl.

"Crookshanks, calm down," Hermione told the animal, shuffling over to the window and opening it to receive whatever message the owl had to deliver. She freed the parchment from around the owl's leg, and after groping around on the floor for a few seconds, came up with several coins to drop in the owl's payment pouch. Closing the window, she absently brought both her treasures back to her bed, where she laid the roses on the comforter, and unrolled the letter.

_Hermione,_

_ We'll be arriving at Diagon Alley around mid-afternoon. Do you want to meet somewhere? Or should we just come by wherever you're staying? Owl us back so we can tell Mrs. Weasley._

_ -Harry_

Harry! Of course that's who sent her the flowers. And he was such a boy, no wonder he forgot to include a card. He'd probably never sent flowers to a girl before, so he didn't know she wouldn't automatically be able to tell who had sent them. Hermione smiled to herself. Boys.

Hermione began the hunt for some parchment. Under the clothes? Nope. Behind the lamp? Nope. In the closet? Nope. On top of the armoire, beneath the bed, next to the table? No, no, and no. Hermione almost wailed when she looked in the mirror and saw how horrible the room really did look.

Wow. At least her hair looked perfect.

But aside from that, she felt like screaming. _What kind of a Head Girl are you if you can't even keep your room clean?_ She asked herself.

_Aren't these places supposed to have some kind of room service? _She answered herself.

_That doesn't count. That has nothing to do with your level of responsibility. _

Hermione sighed. As usual, she was right.

So, she began to do what she always had to do when she lost something: clean her room.

Hermione was a practical thinker. Everything had a reason. Her reason for losing things was something along the lines of some sort of a Divine Intervention whenever her room got unbearable. Like the time she lost her favorite pen. That incident got her room dusted, vacuumed, and reorganized before she found her pen. Well, her mum was sure pleased over that one.

Too bad her mum wasn't here to be pleased with this particular makeover story. All of her clothes were back in the closet, all her books were stacked neatly on the table, any dishes had been sent downstairs, and the roses were now in a pretty crystal vase on her bedside table. Somewhere between dusting the lamp and banishing the dust bunnies under her bed, Hermione had found her box of vanilla scented parchment paper (an early birthday present from her dad) and stashed a sheet for her reply. Ten minutes later, Hermione looked around the now spotless room and nodded to herself. _Much better_, she thought, satisfied. _Now, to write back Harry._

_ Harry,_

She paused. What to say?

_I can't wait to see you two. I've been bored out of my mind here!_

Well, so that wasn't exactly true. Malfoy had kept things… lively, to say the least.

_Why don't we meet for some ice cream?_

No, bad idea. She might run into Malfoy. Hermione scratched that out.

_Why don't you guys come to The Cat's Paw when you arrive? Just tell the lady at the desk that you're here to see me- I'm room 317. Beware the changing stairs._

_ -Hermione_

She laughed and folded the letter. Slipping her feet into her bunny slippers, she exited her room (after making a quick detour to rinse the blood off her wounded hand) and ran downstairs to put the letter in the "out" box at the front desk. Things were going all well and good, until she noticed the person sitting _at_ the front desk, twirling a pen around his fingers.

_Oh… snap._

---

Author Notes: my gosh, what a long hiatus I look. I hope everyone's Christmahaunakwanza was excellent and there were no drunk drivers on New Year's Eve. My break is going amazingly well, only I return to school in less than a week. don't be looking for too many updates, but I will make at least an attempt to continue thinking about this fic. Hm, what to say. This chapter is not my best, I know. I realize and admit it, but I have to get back into the swing of things some how. Four months off is a lot of time to pick right back up. But, um, at least it's something, right guys? Right?

This fic should be done within… oh, five chapters? The end will be right about the time everyone is leaving for Hogwarts. I know, I know, that seems so short, but let me explain why- I'm planning on doing a second part. I wouldn't call it a sequel, persay, more like one big story just cut into two parts. So yeah, there is a second half of this story. But perhaps I should concentrate on finishing part one before thinking about part two.

Thank you for reading! Thank you for adding me to your alert list, your favorites list, and for reviewing. You guys rock. I hope all of you have a great year ahead of you!

Time for shoutouts, please forgive me if I forgot you.

Shoutouts:

To my newbies:

Anonymousreader, befuzzled, kurama lover 518092, and jo- you're right! I loved those books, so I just had to pay homage. You all win! ::tosses out cookies::

Khuu-khuu- nice name- very creative. Thanks for reviewing!

Rae- ::laughs:: evil ferret, indeed. Thanks!

Dumdumditz23- thank you for your review. I think, however, most people seem to be enjoying the story and think it's exciting enough. Yours is the only complaint of boredom I've gotten so far.

XPussyWillowKittenx- thank you! Hope you're still with me, it has been a long time since I updated…

Kerry- wow, you definitely win for most reviews. One every chapter? My gosh!

Fanrei- thank you! I love hearing what chapters people like.

Nikka Malfoy- ::laughs:: very weird, I totally agree. I'm glad you liked it, despite the weirdness!

Chamorro- thank you for reviewing! ::tries to keep it up::

A geniune freak show- wicked awesome name. Glad you thought it was funny!

Bleedingheart14- well, I suppose Malfoy could be a goth. I guess I always pictured him as more of a prep. Thanks for reviewing!

Gothic-Cutie-Blues- thanks for the review!

Snuggly-wuggly- aww, it's nice to know people don't review but still read! But thanks for reviewing, haha. Chemistry went well! I managed to get an A!

Bludiamond- thank you for reviewing me and telling me to update J and for adding me to your watch list! I really appreciate that!

Dramaqueen07- update is here, hot off the presses!

Citcat299- glad you like it! Keep reviewing and let me know what else you like/don't!

Attolia- …is that good or bad?

Tamsididi- wow, definitely am not the best writer on the site, but thanks so much for the thought J talk about an ego boost!

Jexi- here you are!

To my crew:

Realityintrovert- My gosh, how many times can you change your pen name? Now you're just doing it to confuse me, I bet. That's not very nice. ::tsks:: anyway… I don't want to give much away, but I'm sure you've guessed by now… there will definitely be meeting of other people coming up…

Insidiae/black onyx- ::laughs:: you crack me up! So excited you can't spell? What a sacrifice. Thanks for reviewing!

Rinaula- ::grin:: well, mcdonald's doesn't count as French. That's pure American, right there. Sorry it took so long to update… are you still proud of me? ::hopeful grin::

In Dreams- I can't diss mcdonalds, I eat there every now and then. Cheers to you for working there and feeding the masses!

Draco's all mine- aww, thank you! Update is finally here. ::rolls eyes at self:: thanks for reading!

Xxkayleighxx- you asked for more… here it is!

Poetic-Mind- ::beams:: you laughed that hard? I'm honored! I'm glad you thought it was funny!

Biggest fan of yours- have I told you before how much I totally dig your name? ::laughs:: thanks for coming back and continuing to read. If you think it's that great… do me a favor and spread the word! You can be my publicist! Also, thanks for the second review reminding me I have people that want more! J

Elven at Heart- woooow, the beach! I want to come! That's so great your uncle could come back for a visit. Didja have a good time? Actually, my uncle is in Iraq as well. Wow, wouldn't that be odd if they knew each other?

Paprika90- ::beams:: seems like the Draco Meets McDonalds was a hit. I'm glad people liked it! You know… they'll be getting closer soon. Both physically and emotionally…

ILUVRONWEASLEY- aww, I got a hug! ::hugs back:: wow, you're from England? That's so cool! I wish I was. And it's good to know I was on track with the money thing- I was seriously worried that I'd have all these british people screaming at me in reviews going "YOU FAIL!" heh, thankfully that didn't happen. Thank you so much for reviewing!

Karana Belle- yes! I have a partner in my D/Hr cute campaign! –not to mention an accomplice if I ever need to go into hiding ::laughs:: you can keep me supplied with chocolate while I'm hiding in the woods. And thanks also for answering my question about pacing- I really appreciate your feedback!

Jewelwhisperer- ooh, another person that answered my pacing question! Again, thank you for the feedback. I'm glad you like it!

Dreary Days- I like your name too! Thank you so much for adding me to your favorites. It really means a lot!

Kole17- I swear you've reviewed me before, but I can't remember, but I'm putting you in with the old crew to be safe. Thanks so much for emailing me and reminding me I have a fic going, lol. My Christmas was brilliant (got to go snowboarding!) and my New Years was equally as fun. Yay for slightly alcoholic apple cider (long story….)!

And a shoutout to a few people that didn't review… ThreeEaredBunny, MonikadaLuver, ShimmeringEvil… where'd you guys go?? Don't desert me! ::sits and cries:: come baaaack!

And of course…

Kate- thank you for two things. One, for the regular review. I love hearing feedback from you J two, for the second review, telling me to get back to work!! The kick really helped ::laughs:: feel free to kick me again if I take that long again. Thank you so much for sticking with me… you realize this story has been going for… about a year and a half now? My gosh… well, here's hoping for a great year! ::raises glass::


	19. Finally, Hermione Gives In

"Good morning," Draco said cheerfully, looking at the witch who looked like she'd just rolled out of bed. "How are you doing this fine morning?"

Granger just stared at him. Her eyes looked slightly unfocused, like she couldn't believe Draco Malfoy was sitting at the Cat's Paw's front desk with a cup of hot chocolate in front of him, acting like the old lady had just taken two weeks vacation in sunny, romantic, beautiful Mexico and named him proprietor in her absence.

And Draco couldn't really blame her. He placed the pen in its stand and polished his nails on his robe. "Cat got your tongue?" He snickered at his own joke. "Pun viciously intended," he added, breathing on his nails and going back to work.

"What are you _doing_ here?" she finally sputtered, slamming her fist on the desk. The desk quivered with the impact of her fist, and Draco marveled at the strength in the average-sized girl.

"Your dear Mrs. Whitmore—or, should I say, Auntie Flora, as she asked me to call her, asked me to watch over the desk while she went out to get some groceries. She said she'd be back in about fifteen minutes if you needed anything."

"What I need is for you to stop stalking me," Granger snapped, crossing her arms over her blue terrycloth robe.

"You promised to help me work on that potions essay today," Draco reminded her while using his wand to float a pillow across the room about three feet in the air.

"I most certainly did not!" Granger looked scandalized. "We never came to any sort of conclusion when it came to that topic!"

"You owe me," he shrugged.

"I owe you? For what?"

Draco considered naming the little surprise he had left for her on her bedside table, but instead said, "your hair?"

That shut her up quite well.

"So, the way I see it," Draco drawled, leaning in ever so slightly, "you go get changed, we go eat some breakfast, and then work on that potions essay. Once it's done, we go and get something else to eat. Then we could come back here and—"

"Harry and Ron will arriving here in the afternoon," Granger said, and Draco thought she almost looked… well, disappointed. But why would she be disappointed to see her two minions? Could it be… was it possible… she was slowly coming around to him?

"So you better not be around unless you really _want_ to be beaten to a bloody pulp," she said with a snicker.

Or not.

"Oh, that's not a problem," he said, moving in one or two more centimeters, "there are ways to avoid being discovered."

Hermione looked quite revolted, "Malfoy, please tell me you did not just mean that to sound like a horribly revolting paperback romance."

"Why, do you read them?"

"Wha- I can't- you- just go away!" she roared. Slamming her fist again and rattling the small porcelain figurines waltzing around the top of the desk.

"I told you," Draco said somewhat plaintively, "I just want to work on the Potions essay with you. Why is that so difficult?" he asked the china couple, almost pouting.

Had he not been so busy making small talk with the china version of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, he wouldn't have missed Hermione's smile.

"Well," she said, sounding just as disgruntled as before, "Harry and Ron are meeting me here sometime in the afternoon. That means…" she looked at the clock. Draco figured she was calculating what time the afternoon began and allotting him only enough time so he wouldn't interfere with the Golden Trio time. "I suppose we could do some work on it, but I'd want to be done around two-thirty. Can you do that?" she asked, sounding like she was talking to a three year old.

"Yes, Mommy," he rolled his eyes at her, "wizard's honor."

"Fine," she grumbled, tightening her bathrobe sash. "I'm going to go change and get my books and then we can get this over with." She thumped up the stairs, annoyance radiating off of her terrycloth-robed back.

"Don't feel like you need to worry about hurting my feelings or anything!" he called up after her, standing up and giving the china figurines a wink before going to grab his books.

* * *

sheepish grin hello? Anyone remember me? Yeah… I… haven't been here in a while, have I? If anyone still reads this, thank you. I'm so sorry for my… oh, seven month break? But I assure you, though it might take me another seven months, I will finish this fic. No time for reviewer thank you's, but rest assured I'm thanking you for reviewing. I apologize that this chapter is short, but it's mostly setting up the next chapter, which should be a) juice and b) long, so I don't feel too bad. Course, who knows if I'll ever get the next chapter out… coughs just kidding.

KATE: waves frantically remember me? Hi!

Till next time,

Trin


	20. Potions Essay and a Narrow Escape Or Two

"If there was some kind of reality show for putting together outfits for different bizarre occasions, I could win hands down," Hermione told Crookshanks, who only purred by way of response. "I mean, it's not like they don't have a reality show for every other banal activity, why not picking out clothes?" She kicked a stack of laundry over, jeans and skirts flopping onto the ground.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Hermione found herself standing in the middle of her room, searching for the proper outfit to wear. _This has become a bloody habit_, she told herself, throwing tank tops and shirts around. _I will only allow this madness to continue because it's summer, and you have nothing else to concentrate on except looking gorgeous every day, you understand that?_

_Oh, and that Potions essay._

_ Speaking of that Potions essay, you need to get dressed so you can meet with… _him_ and start working on it._

Speaking of one Draco Malfoy, it seemed all her clothing issues stemmed from him, and this did nothing to appease her fears of turning into a shallow, platform wearing, makeup obsessed, fashion diva who only drank bottled water and whose sentences ended in octaves that weren't even covered on the piano. _What is happening to me?_ She pondered as she settled on a pair of jeans she bought while in America. "Speaking of America, I need to get those clothes back from him before Harry and Ron get here," she said to Crookshanks, who just blinked and rolled over onto his stomach in a 'Pet me' sort of way.

Hair still damp from her shower (but looking quite perfect, so said her mirror), she searched for the right shirt to complete her ensemble. Finding the right shirt was harder than you'd think, since it involved debating her current mood and the image she wanted to project. A baggy t-shirt declared she was frumpy; a low-cut top purred she was ready for him to come on to her. "Why do I even care?" she finally asked herself after looking through shirt after shirt. "It's just Malfoy and a Potions essay. We're not even going to be seen in public." With this thought fortifying her spirit, she grabbed the first shirt her hands landed on (a nice red shirt—who ever said she had no House pride?) and with her school bag in tow, headed back downstairs to set up shop.

To say her mood had lightened in the ten minutes it took her to gather her textbooks, fresh parchments, quills and ink, and walk down the stairs into the lobby was an understatement. It was nothing short of a brain transplant, the way all thoughts of suicide, homicide, and any other terms ending in –ide and relating to death had floated away, replaced by the reverent thought of doing school. Learning, absorbing, enhancing her mind—what could be better? And even if she was going to be sitting next to the most annoying person to ever degrade the planet, who cared? Malfoy obviously didn't know about her tendency to shut off all communication with the outside world when doing schoolwork. He wouldn't be getting any amusement off of her, no sirree. He wanted to do the Potions essay, well, she'd do it, get it done, and leave. What a good plan!

Matter of fact, by the time he had returned to the Cat's Paw with his supplies (She got a small amount of satisfaction that he wasn't 100 he could actually get her to agree to work with him, as shown by his not already having the school supplies there), she had already laid out her two textbooks, dictionary, extra quill, bottle of ink, had unrolled an extra-long sheet of lightly cinnamon-scented parchment for the actual essay, and was busy scratching out a rough outline to answer the question, "When attempting to confuse a person, discuss the procedure of brewing a Confusing Concoction as opposed to a Confusing and Befuddlement Draught. Explain each one's strengths and weaknesses, and compare and contrast the benefits and faults of each potion. Also point out elements that would render your potion useless and/or harm the drinker."

Malfoy blinked at her array of supplies spread out over the table. "And where am I supposed to sit?" he asked with a pointed look at the covered table.

"Oh, there are plenty of other tables," Hermione muttered, busy writing out ingredients for a Confusing Concoction so she could compare it to the Confusing and Befuddlement Draught, and then dissect that list and figure out what each ingredient contributed to the potion, thus being able to find another ingredient that would neutralize the original ingredients effect on the user. A foolproof plan, and one that was bound to impress Snape.

"Granger, have you never actually studied with anyone at Hogwarts? What are you, the one woman homework machine? Surely the Golden Trio actually works _together_ and Potty and Weasel don't just take advantage of you and make you do their assignments while they go off and save the world."

The degree and intensity of bitterness in his voice actually shook her from her happy bubble of homework, and she looked up, blinking at him. "Draco, what in the world are you going on about? It's just homework."

It was his turn to stare at her, stunned by what he just heard. "Just homework?" he finally repeated, looking like Potter himself had just arrived and handed him the Golden Snitch on a silver platter. "Granger, it has _never_ been 'just homework' to you."

"Well, yes, this is true-" she paused to take the thin, wire-frame glasses off her face so she could study him, "but what was all that about Harry and Ron?"

"Don't you care that they use you?" he seemed to almost spit at her. Goodness, he seemed quite fired up about this whole thing. With a sigh, she set her glasses down and separated her hand from her quill to answer him.

"Malfoy, they're not using me because I'm perfectly fine with what's going on. Besides, it's not like I do every single assignment for them," she explained, wondering why in the world he was so upset.

"Oh, so if a wife is fine with her abusive husband's beating her, that's alright, too?"

"Merlin, Malfoy, what is your problem?" Hermione shook his arm. "Get a grip!"

Malfoy muttered something.

"Didn't quite catch that," she raised a brow.

After a moment, he lifted his head, "All I said was, if I was as smart as you, I wouldn't be giving away my success to anyone."

Hermione wasn't sure if she was more shocked by his admission of her intelligence or his incredibly bleak and cynical outlook on life.

_Now how do I respond to something like that?_

Giving him her full attention, she studied him again. "Well," she started, "I suppose it's my way of showing them that I love them. The only people it's really harming, if any, is them, because they aren't getting the experience of discovering the information themselves. But since I enjoy learning, it's not a huge sacrifice for me, but it means a lot to them. It's not really giving away anything… more like sharing." Hermione hoped that hadn't sounded too sunshine-y and rainbows and waiting for the appropriate gagging sounds from the blonde boy.

"Whatever," he said, turning on his heel and dumping his books on a table far away from Hermione. She sighed. "Come on Malfoy, I thought we were doing this thing together?" she asked, stressing the last word.

"That would require you to share your table with me," his back retorted.

"Or perhaps you could exert just a little effort and pull a second table next to mine?" she said, exasperated. Honestly, why did the girl always have to come up with the bright ideas?

"That would mean you'd actually have to converse and share your findings with me," Malfoy said, still sounding petty and sullen, "and we all know the Golden Girl works alone."

"Do you want to work on this essay together or not?" Hermione opened one of her tomes of potions and let it slam open on the table, making an impressive sound that caused Malfoy to jump. "Because I'm already ahead of you, and this arguing thing is getting us no where."

Silence, while Hermione bent back over her notes and her hand and quill got reacquainted after their absence. Then: _scrape, scratch, squeak, screeeetch._

Hermione looked up with a small smile on her face. "Glad you could join us, Malfoy."

"Now, my problem is that adding lovage is what cements the ingredients of a Confusing and Befuddlement Draught, but it's not necessary in a Confusing Concoction, and yet they're almost identical potions," he said, opening one of his notebooks and browsing a page of handwritten notes.

"But the Confusing Concoction has fluxweed and chopped daisy roots. The lovage is only needed in the Befuddlement Draught to keep the monkshood from taking over the potion," Hermione objected.

"So what would you add to neutralize the Confusing Concoction?"

"The Confusing Concoction, I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but I know for the Befuddlement Draught, armadillo bile would ruin it…"

"But you can't use the armadillo bile because it would react with the lionfish spine in the Confusing Concoction and possibly cause the drinker to become transparent."

"Exactly."

"Now, what if you were to add bezoar to the Befuddlement Draught? It should work with the sneezewort and enhance the strength and time of the potion's effects, right?"

"As long as you were careful not to put in too much, in which case the drinker might sprout some horns."

"Good point."

"I would still go with the Befuddlement Draught," Hermione said, digging in her pocket for the key to her room, as Malfoy trailed her upstairs, their discussion about the potions still raging. "The twenty-eight times stirring clockwise gives that potion a bit more oomph than the Confusing Concoction, because it draws in old Celtic magic concerning the moon and the female body."

_Oh Merlin, please tell me I didn't just all but mention getting a period._

"Blood magic has its advantages," Malfoy conceded (_Sure does in Harry's case,_ Hermione smiled), "but overall, the Confusing Concoction has a longer endurance time and doxy eggs give it an almost sweet taste, so it's easier to slip into someone's drink."

"I suppose then the deciding factor is whether the brewer wants subtly or power," she said dryly, finally finding her key and sliding it into the lock.

"Hermione…" the word nearly slipped off his lips and hung between them.

_Did he just call me by my first name?_ The witch who's first name had just been spoken by the least likely person ever to speak it turned around and looked curiously at the tall wizard behind her. "Is there a reason we're suddenly on a first name basis?" Hermione shook her head in mock disappointment. "Malfoy, are we breaking up?"

"Mistake, I assure you," he said, eyes focused on her face. "And we were never anything that would allow us to break up. Unless we were breaking up being enemies, which would mean we'd now be friends."

'Friends' was a word Hermione never would've dreamed she could use in connection with Draco Pureblood Malfoy. Arch-Enemy, sure. Rival, yes. Acquaintance, even, maybe. But friend? That brought up memories of Harry and Ron and her running into the common room, rolling on the floor, laughing so hard their sides ached. 'Friends' was connected with hours with Ginny, helping her figure out how to confess to Harry her real feelings. 'Friends' even covered the relationship between her planner and school books and her! But… Draco Malfoy? Friends? Was this a sign of the Apocalypse?

"And even though you're still totally and completely wrong about the Befuddlement Draught being the better choice," he said, putting up one arm to lean on her door and look down at her in that intense sort of way, "I think we can over look that if you're in the mood to do a little… compromising…"

It was bizarre to think of Draco Malfoy as friends. But in this situation, with him leaning in bit by bit and Hermione just _feeling_ his other hand wanting to touch hers, somehow thinking of Draco Malfoy as more than friends was just… natural.

_Compromise: noun; a combination of qualities or elements of different things_ flashed through her mind just as she felt his breath brush over her forehead.

"Argh, these stairs!" she heard someone bellow below.

"Hermione warned us about them…"

"Warned _you_, mate, but I didn't see the bloody letter that could've saved me this black eye," Ron's unmistakable voice floated up.

_Code Red, Code Red!_

Footsteps were heard thudding their way.

"Draco," she hissed, "that would be two boys coming your way that would like nothing more than to pummel you into the ground, step on you, and have their last memory of Draco Malfoy as the scum on the bottom of their boots. I highly suggest you do some fast Apparating, _now_."

But he didn't move, except in the direction of her, which was definitely the wrong way to move.

"Tell me, Granger, that this hasn't been a fun few days with me."

"The 'fun parts' and 'you' were not together, I assure you," Hermione hissed, panic giving her a nervous tic. "Will you please get out of here?" Now, the thoughts of what Ron and Harry would say if they saw the two of them together filled her mind.

"What, so concerned for my well-being?"

"No, I'm concerned for mine," she said bluntly, listening to the footsteps and two best friends' banter growing louder, "get out of here!"

"Not until you admit it's been fun having me here."

One final image popped up in relation to the word 'friends': A dinner at McDonalds, where a boy and a girl had spent an hour picking apart everything about each other, and yet somehow remaining on speaking terms, where the Oreo McFlurry had been a hit, and the girl had fabulous hair.

Footsteps, coming closer.

Harry's voice: "I hope she doesn't mind us showing up early."

Ron's voice: "Well, it's not like she's got anything else going on."

_Depends on your definition of 'going on'_, Hermione thought faintly. Out of the corner of her eye (or maybe just the corner of her imagination) she thought she saw him moving in even closer, his lips getting dangerously close to uncharted territory before she blurted out, "Yes, it's been fun; now get out of here!"

With a smirk and a wink, Malfoy withdrew from her personal bubble, twisted the key in her door's lock and slipped past her to enter her room, shutting the door silently behind him.

Huge sigh of relief. Wait, relief? Something was wrong when she felt relief at her enemy entering her bedroom. _Now how will I get him out of there? And what if he sees something he's not supposed to? I'll never live it down. But I suppose that could've been worse, but what about those last few seconds? Could he possibly been about to ki--_

"Hermione!"

"Guys!" A huge mess of three people hugging and screaming congealed outside her door.

"Hope you don't mind the early arrival," Harry smiled at her.

"Not at all," she returned the grin, the sentiment in her answer valid for more than one reason. Her emotions were torn between feeling exhilarated, confused, and ready to go postal.

"So, how was America?" Ron interrupted, pulling back from the hug-fest to look at her. "'Mione… you look different!"

"I do?" she reached up and patted her head self-consciously. Whoever said Ron didn't pay attention to details was obviously a liar.

He scrunched up his face, as if trying to pull the answer to a question in Transfiguration out of thin air. "I don't even know what it is," he confessed. "But you seem more… confident. Or, happy. Something like that?"

She blinked, not expecting that answer. "I… guess?"

"Now that we're here, she has every reason to be happy," Harry grinned down at her, elbowing her side. "Now what'd you bring us from the good old US of A?"

"Ahhh… I got you some… stuff…" she stalled, mind whirling at how she would get her stuff back from Malfoy, not to mention sort out what their new relationship status was. "But I want to wait to give it to you, for a more special time. Dinner tomorrow?"

"Works for me. Now let's go do something!"

"Let me just get my money, and we're off," she beamed at them, then stopped short.

"Anything wrong?" Ron asked, noticing her frozen stance before the door.

"I… er…" _don't want you to see the blonde boy standing behind the door, _"it's kind of a mess in there."

"Hermione, you're talking to two boys," Harry rolled his eyes at her, "we live in pigsties on a good day, a dump on a bad one."

"And there's supposed to be a difference?" she teased, smiling at him, but her mind kicking it up a notch, trying to figure out how to get in there without them following. "Just wait out here, okay?"

"'Mione, it's not like we care," Ron interjected.

"I don't have my key!" she said suddenly (_Anything for more time!_), searching through her pockets. Obediently, the boys followed suit, looking on the floor and checking in her bag until Ron spoke up, "Uh, Hermione? I think it's in the lock."

Two points for Ron.

"…Whoops," She laughed carelessly, stooping to pick her books up, "silly me, I must've just gotten so excited to see you guys I totally forgot." She gave them both what appeared to be a fond smile, amazed at her skill of obscuring the truth (she really didn't want to call it 'lying'). Taking a deep breath, praying to every saint floating around up there, and thinking _here goes nothing_; she twisted the knob and opened the door.

"Wow, you're right, it is a mess," Harry snickered.

"Thanks, that means a lot," she said, nearly sagging against the door in relief. No blonde boy anywhere. Somehow he had managed to get himself out or hide himself well enough that not even she could detect his hiding place. _Thank you, God_, she thought, then grabbed her money and turned to her two best friends.

"Who's in the mood for some ice cream?"

AN: Wow, I'm on a roll! Check out this chapter- definitely one of my longest, ever: four pages in Word. Hopefully this makes up for last chapter's disappointing length, as several people commented on the lack of verbosity. I do apologize for that. But here I am, back and more wordy than ever! Two or three chapters left before this fic is finally done. Then of course, comes the second part of the story, but… well, we're not going to even think about that yet. And before I get to the thank you's, let me just say… a few recent reviews have been somewhat disappointing (though I enjoy and appreciate them), basically saying things that have nothing to do with the story or telling me I've got a 6 out of 10, yet giving no actual criticism or feedback… honestly, though I enjoy reviews as much as any author, I'd almost rather do without those. Though this is only fanfic :ducks fanfic writer's missiles, I do try to write this story as well as I can. Actual feedback, or specific things you liked or thought worked, are very much appreciated!

:steps off soapbox: and onto the thank you's!

Hazelocean, ant-on-a-moose, kandygurl4, Rachel, mysticpam- thanks for reviewing! Hope you're still enjoying the story. I appreciate your kind words!

Xx kyani- yeah, the chapters were shorter in the beginning (mostly because I was just typing whatever came to mind), but once I actually got a plot (plot? What?) the chapters were easier to give a bit more length and meat. Hope the fic isn't frustrating still J and glad you liked the china bit! No clue where that came from…

Nutmeg- this isn't your name? you're not sure if you even have a name? then perhaps isn't the best place for you… I recommend the room with the white padded walls… heheh. Just kidding.

White Crow- wow, haven't heard from you in ages! How are things going?

Sienna- I rock? Aw, thanks!

ILUVRONWEASLEY- HI! Aww so happy it makes me to see my old reviewers returning… uhh, so happy it makes me talk like Yoda…::looks around: don't ask me. I definitely wasn't shooting for Draco acting gay… but… er, well, my new car I have deemed gay, so perhaps that was influencing my writing style… not that my car reminds me of Draco (its name is Tim) but… oh, bugger, I give up. Thank you for reviewing!

Bookworm1214- thank you so much! I really appreciate the feedback you gave me. I hope the voice of the story is still enjoyable—I find half the time I'm fighting to remember what it sounds like.

Eee- the funny thing is, it took me about a week. Hope I didn't disappoint you :smiles:

Eowyn89- thank you so much for helping my pathetic French! Yo hablo Espanol, no Frances. Uh. So yeah, I appreciate the help, and I'm going back to edit that part any day now.

Bondariana- I'm not sure what that has to do with my story…?

Kole17- YES! Another reviewer strikes back! Please keep with me, no matter how much you have to dig to find my story. I'm glad Draco's comments are funny to someone other than myself, and I really enjoy your long reviews—don't feel bad, and do them as much as you like! Thanks so much for brightening my day!


	21. The Boogeyman Behind Door One

She hadn't realized how much she truly missed the boys until her memory was jogged, and she experienced what she could have been missing. Ron and Harry were just as lively as she remembered them, though the difference was night and day from her first encounter with them to the present day and age. But some things never changed. Ron teased Harry about all the girls still flocking around him, and Harry just sighed and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses (he refused to get contacts), looking far more tired than a normal eighteen year old boy should. Ron chattered a mile a minute, regaling Hermione with fresh stories of Fred and George's entrepreneurship (they were currently fighting a lawsuit that accused them over the unwanted side effects from some of their treats) and his newest passion – muggle baseball.

After ice cream cones for everyone, a stop into the bookstore for a few supplies for the boys and a leisurely stroll up and down the various streets, the boys finally bade her goodnight and the trio separated, making plans for lunch the next day.

As Hermione lay on her bed, flipping through her various lists compiled over the summer ('Books I Need to Buy Before School Starts' 'Books I Need to Finish Reading Before School Starts' 'Books I Need to Get For School'—that list was totally crossed off, with the exception of her Arithmancy book), she kept herself busy making sure that things were in order for the trip to Hogwarts, since her time spent in Diagon Alley were coming to a close. Busy, that's the way Hermione liked things. Busy was good – it made her feel productive. It practically helped the world go 'round.

In fact, she was almost busy enough that she was able to forget about the fact her last ride to Hogwarts wouldn't be with her two best friends, that she was still missing a book from her list of school supplies, and that there was One Blond Ferret who was currently stalking her (not only physically, but also taking up residence somewhere in her temporal lobe).

Almost.

Some things were just a little too big to forget about.

Hermione, after dissecting the past few days under the guise of alphabetizing her assorted lists (Would 'Clothes To Give Away' go before or after 'Clothes That Need Mending'?), finally came to one bloody conclusion:

She had to figure him out.

Somehow, Hermione knew, way, far before the whole mess even started, that it would ultimately come to this. Hadn't he even been able to tell her that fact during one of their first meetings? She hated to admit that Malfoy was right, but when it was over a matter of her own mental stability and health, Hermione supposed she could allow it to happen, just this once.

The biggest problem, she mused to herself, as she moved on from alphabetically sorting her papers to reorganizing them into piles of the degree of possibility of their completion, was that there was no logical reason for her… obsession with him. They had co-existed happily (_Well, okay, maybe not always happily_) for the past six years; why change now? Was it necessary they explore this new, uncharted territory? Maybe there was a way she could just slowly, discreetly step backwards out of this mess, not unlike the way she'd delicately backstepped out of the common room where a horny Ron and Lavender had been going at it on the couch.

But then there was the question, her other side brought up, did she want to exit the arena before the game had ended?

It took her five seconds to come up with an answer for that- of course she did!

But, er, that was five seconds too long for comfort.

Hermione sat herself down for a firm talking to, forgetting all about lists and organizing and anything that might actually be productive.

"Listen, Miss Head Girl," she told herself, crossing her arms and picturing herself sitting across from, well, herself. "You have no time to get caught up in boys. You have had six successful years at school, and you have only one more to go before you enter the real world and things relax a little, and then you will have all the time you could ever want to pursue a frivolous relationship with whatever-" _non-blond_ "boy you happen to fancy. So don't ruin things for yourself now, when you've gotten this far and come this close. Just be the good girl you've always been, and don't let any hormones get in the way of your school."

She was so into her spiel that when the knock came at her door, she didn't hear it.

"Because after all, what does a guy get you? Sure, he might bring you flowers and candy, but what good does that do? All that does is give you a mess to clean up and makes you fat! And the kissing and hand holding can't be worth it, because we all know the path that travels! And when he leaves you, are the emotional scars really worth the few moments of happiness and chocolate? And what about the way they—"

Knock, knock.

Hermione could've sworn her heart stopped beating for a minute, and all those points about why guys weren't worth it scampered out of her head to find some chocolate elsewhere – they clearly didn't care about getting fat. Her mind suddenly was all too free to concentrate on one, suddenly painfully important question.

Was it him?

Time froze as she stared at the door, the sound of a fist against wood echoing in her mind. Numbly, she uncurled her legs and stood to walk the five or six paces to the door.

First step. _Why would he come here at this time of night?_

Second step. _I wonder if he forgot something._

Third step. _What if he's dropping something off?_

Fourth step. _What if he secretly hopes I'm not here so he doesn't have to see me?_

There was a brief pause before she took another step, in which she contemplated this.

Fifth step. _Oh well. He should know better than to come to a girl's room at ten at night and hope she's not there, because any good girl would be in her room at curfew and doing something like homework or-_

"Are you in there?"

She stood, inches away from the door, tense, fingers stretching towards the door knob, just itching to open it and see who was behind it. _See who's behind door number one_…

"Who's there?" she finally spoke up, voice sounding as calm and confident as always.

There was a pause, and she could just see the person behind the door smiling.

"Who do you think is there?" the bemused answer came back.

_Drat. It didn't work._

The door muffled the person's voice. And while Hermione _thought_ it was Malfoy (and maybe…. even hoped it was…?), part of her knew it was equally as likely to be Ron or Harry returning for something. And she didn't want to prepare herself for one person, and it turned out to be another—that could be awkward.

"I'm not going to open this door without my rude, late night guest first identifying himself." Good. That sounded strong and authoritative, right?

"Open the door or you'll be sorry you didn't."

Ooh. Even more authoritative. Two points to her rude, late night guest.

"And I cal tell you're already at the door, so you should just open it."

Drat. And he was fairly skilled at deducing… the obvious.

"I'm afraid I can't and won't do that," she told the door, wishing she was staying at a muggle hotel where they had glorious inventions called peepholes. Sure, she could run grab her wand and perform a quick spell to check out the visitor on the other side, but that would take effort.

A moment of silence, and then a sigh. "Fine, have it your way."

Hermione had only three blessed seconds to contemplate the meaning of that statement before her door began to swing open and she had to jump back so it wouldn't smack her in the face and leave her comatose (and a helpless target) whatever boogeyman (until recently) stood behind her door.

"Good evening," the boogeyman drawled, eyes flickering at her look of shock, confusion and otherwise panic at his appearance.

"Hey," she said faintly, her worst dreams – make that nightmares – coming true.

Before her unbelieving eyes stood one Draco Malfoy, Ferret Esquire, holding a dozen of long-stem red roses and a bottle of champagne.

Bloody. Effing. Hell.


	22. Malfoy Roses Alcohol

_Malfoy. Roses. Alcohol._

Hermione's poor, tired brain couldn't even make full sentences anymore after a few days with the guy.

_Malfoy. _

"You… I… night…" Hermione babbled.

Apparently, her mouth couldn't either.

The Malfoy Smirk ™ came out full force, causing Hermione's stomach to do a funny little wiggle.

_Roses._

"Really, Granger, opening your door past midnight for just anyone? What if I was someone—" he leaned in, presumably to frighten her, close enough that she could smell his (unfortunately) minty fresh breath, "out to hurt you?"

That's when Hermione Granger – and the scientific term for it would be – cracked.

About two inches away from his face, close enough to see the specks of gold in his intense stare, she burst out laughing.

"Malfoy," she gasped, "who do you think you are? Casanova?"

His slight frown and now disapproving gaze swept over her shaking form, as she bent over to hold onto the door frame, the better choice over sliding down in a boneless pile of hilarity on the floor. No one wants to clean that up. "What is wrong with you?"

But she couldn't stop laughing. The oddity, panic and confusion of the past few days finally triumphed over her. Logic and wit had clearly abandoned her in perhaps her greatest time of need, and while a part of her wished they'd return from their unannounced hiatus, another – more repressed – part of her hoped just for one night, they'd stay the freaking heck out of her head.

_Alcohol._

"Come on in," she finally choked out, tears streaming down her face. Good thing she didn't wear makeup, like most muggles. She would've looked like a rabid clown at this point.

Breathless with laughter, she turned away from Draco and walked back into her room, but not before grabbing the bottle of bubbly from a stunned (to say the least) Ferret.

A few seconds later, as she rummaged for glasses, she looked up to see him still standing, now watching her warily from outside the door. She couldn't help but be a little pleased that he finally seemed off his game. If she could do a happy dance, she would. Or perhaps laugh manically, like the villains in the movies. Or, really, both at one time. Now that would be a picture for the Daily Prophet- "Head Girl Driven Insane by Schoolmate!"

"Are you coming in?" she asked, conjuring two long-stemmed glasses for the champagne. A glass of bubbly could be just what she needed to relax after such a stressful few days.

"It depends," he shot back, "are you going to go completely nutters and Avada me right after telling me how handsome I look?"

"You'll have to find out," she smirked in what she assumed was a fair replication of his signature look, from the look of disapproval on his face. "Isn't the surprise half the fun?"

"Not if it involves me losing body parts," he shot back.

They both paused for a moment, each wondering which parts he could be referring to.

"Don't worry," Hermione finally broke the silence, stopping herself from going to far with which parts she'd, er, most want to see. "Your overinflated ego has one again presumed that there's anyone in this room that cares enough to muster the effort throw a spell at you."

"You do have your wand out and ready," he retorted. "You could annihilate me before I even have the chance to say '_Expelliarmus_.' "

"That'sHarry's signature spell," Hermioned rolled her eyes. "Can't you come up with something a little more original?"

_Good. Back on solid ground._

Giving herself a mental pat on the back for stringing together more than three words to compose a moderately complex sentence structure, Hermione patted the bed to beckon Mafloy to enter, as if to tell him that Cracked!Hermione had left the building- at least for the moment.

It didn't occur to her until a second later that perhaps drawing attention to the most common place for illicit nighttime activities might not be the best move with the man who had almost-sort-of-was-possibly-about-to kiss her only hours before.

"Are those for me?" she asked quickly, pointing at the roses, hoping her faux pas would go unnoticed by Malfoy and she wouldn't have to defend her virginity from the one person who would be least likely to appreciate it.

_Eek. No thinking about virginity and Malfoy. He certainly isn't The One. Er, or one at all. Anyone. No one! He's no one! But I wonder who- No! Stop! Self, we are NOT going there. Thank you kindly. _

"Always the brilliant one, aren't we?" he drawled, finally crossing the threshold and entering her lair. "No, I thought Crookshanks needed just another token of my extreme gratitude for ruining my clothing." His eyes swept around the room and noticed the other bouquet. "Apparently, he has more than one admirer."

Hermione smiled softly, "Those were from Harry and Ron." She glanced over at the lush blossoms, missing the quirk in Malfoy's eyebrow at her assumptions.

"Well, take these as well," he responded, drawing her attention back to him, and offering the crimson flowers her way.

Trying not to look as pleased as she felt, Hermione accepted them and turned her back on them to fill a vase with water.

When she turned around, Malfoy had made himself completely at home on her bed, and was currently pouring a stream of shimmering, bubbling liquid into the glasses. He smirked up at her, and her stomach – it complained it had been getting quite the workout lately – did another flop.

"Drink, Granger?"

* * *

Um. Hi. I'm Trinity and I… well, I didn't forget about this fic. I just… had other things on my plate. I started this photo when I was fifteen. And now I'm mid twenties, and life is obviously very different. For one, the HP saga itself has come to an end with the release of HP7.2. And it's bittersweet, to return to this universe. Two, I now have you know, a real job. And writing is at the very bottom of my list of To Do's. But every now and then over the past few years, someone would review this fic and remind me it was unfinished. And yesterday, a friend mentioned how she used to writing fanfiction, and my mind went straight to this little story. And I hate leaving when something is incomplete – thus… here I am. Don't be surprised if this story now feels different, I'm assuming my style has changed since I was fifteen years old. But if you're just along for the ride, as anxious as I am to see a true ending, then I'll see you here for the next chapter.

Oh… and Kate… you still out there? *smiles*

Love, Trin


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